


Letters From the Front

by splot



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky and Steve are the best penpals, Canon alteration, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Period-Typical Sexism, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, WW2 era, badly written sexual content probably im sorry, like HELLA SLOW, maybe some modern mixed in, night terrors/ptsd, terribly written fight scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-30 03:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 42,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14487762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splot/pseuds/splot
Summary: “You're not worried about bein' the only woman bunking with a cabinful of men?”Nora comes to a stop at the empty bunk, turns and casts a cursory eye over the men now staring at her. “Don't worry, gentlemen. I'll return you to your mamas with your virtue in one piece. This bunk taken?”----Fuck I dunno just roll with it IW fucked me up and I'm trying to cope





	1. Chapter 1

The “Now Recruiting!” posters at Stark Expo were doing their job well, the crowd at the stall steadily growing. Everyone wanted to do their part for America, for the free world.

Everyone—including the young man in the newsboy cap filling out his papers with a steady hand. Standing at 5'7, thin and lean, many of the other hopefuls cast an amused eye over him as he paid them no mind, solely concentrated on his forms.

Not long after, his name is called, and he takes a deep breath, slim fingered hands sliding into the pockets of his brown slacks, and follows the nurse into the curtained examination area.

* * *

  
“I'd like to speak to the head... er, doctor in charge, Sir.” The man says, voice quiet and low. The doctor, a thin man with a clear disinterest on his face, doesn't even look up from the forms he'd been handed.

“Just take off your shirt, shoes and cap and let me do the examining, bud. It's the same process no matter who does it.”

“I'll make it worth your while.”

That makes the doctor look up. “Are you attempting to _bribe_ a government official, son?”

The young man looks up, hazel eyes somewhere between brown and gold and green bright and steady as he stares at the doctor. “Fifty bucks. I'd really like to talk to the quack in charge.”

It's a risky move, one that hadn't worked so well at the Queens Recruitment Centre and ended up with the man thrown out on his rear, but the doctor at the Stark Expo centre just holds out a hand, accepting the crumpled notes and slipping out of the examination room. The man lets out a breath, shaky and slow—both at parting with most of the cash he had and with the prospect of being closer to his goal than ever.

The curtain parts, and in walks a small balding man, with wire-frames and straggly greying hair pointing in every which way. He smiles warmly, slow and relaxed as he flicks through the folder tabbed with the name **JOSEPH** , in neat, blocky handwriting.

“So, you wished to see the lead medical expert. May I ask why?” The man is startled at the German accent that the doctor has, but doesn't comment, instead straightening, pulling the cap off his head and into his hands.

“I'm healthy and fit—I know you can't take my word for it, but if we skip the examination and you mark me fit for training, I'll make it worth your while.” Bribing the first doctor was luck. Bribing a second would be a gift from the big guy upstairs.

The doctor raises one grey eyebrow amusedly, still flicking through the papers. “Ah, you are not the first to say so. Eager to kill Nazis, yes?”

The question leaves the young man taken aback, blinking, before he answers. “No.”

“Then why all the effort? Before you make it, what was it? ‘ _Worth my while_ ', I'd like to understand the reason behind it all.” He smiles pleasantly, and the man considers his words carefully before opening his mouth.

“I didn't expect to end up here. I came from a place I'll probably never find my way back to, not unless I take the long way. Years, decades to get me home. But while I'm waiting ... I can't just sit by and do nothing. I don't wanna kill. I wanna save people.” His voice is a little stronger, a little higher, and he nervously twists his cap in his hands.

The doctor's smile grows slightly, and instead of running to grab the authorities, he hands the man a clean set of forms. “If you would like a chance, I think first, we need your name, Nick Joseph. Am I correct in assuming... perhaps, _Nicola_?”

The young man's eyes widen, and he-she slumps as she limply takes the forms. “How did you--?”

“I didn't! You just told me.” The doctor is smug, and the woman blinks twice, before bowing her head in slight shame. “You tried at the Queens centre last month, yes? Not to say no-one had tried bribing a doctor before, no, but it stood out.”

“S'Nora. Nora Rose Joseph.” She answers to the papers, instead of the doctor.

“Doctor Abraham Erskine. Welcome to the Strategic Scientific Reserve."

* * *

  
Her hair had had time to grow out to her shoulders by the time she was shipped off to the training fields. The other soldiers on the transport had looked at her funny, with her dark curls pinned neatly and held back by a khaki band the same colour as her uniform. She paid them no mind, Jean-Paul Sartre's _Being and Nothingness_ capturing her attention instead.

On the training base, Camp Lehigh, there's what Nora can only refer to as _organised chaos_. Soldiers in groups running through training exercises, stocking supplies, pitching tents and streaming in and out of cabins-- it's _exciting_.

The group of soldiers Nora had travelled with are herded to one such cabin, though Nora is stopped by the Corporal overseeing assignments—a stocky man with a no-nonsense expression. “Easy, doll. You get vip treatment, your own personal cabin. Can't have you bunking with the men, and not with the Agent either. Favouritism and all.”

Nora hasn't met this _Agent_ , but she gathers from the wording that _Agent_ is a woman, overseeing this chance she's been given. All the same, she arches eyebrow at the Corporal, hefting her duffel higher over her shoulder. “No need, Sir. I won't waste resources and time. I can bunk with the others, just give me three sheets and a rope and I'll be fine.”

The soldier raises his own brow (probably the only expression the man's pulled in his three decades on the earth) and stares at her. “I don't know what kind of ship you think the United States is running in this army, sweetheart--"

“—The kind that has let a woman into basic for a Scientific Reserve? Don't worry, sir, the purity of your men will remain in one piece.”

* * *

  
By the time Nora's gathered her extra sheets, a rope, some nails, a hammer and has made her way over to the cabin, she's had time to settle her nerves. It wouldn't be her first time bunking with men, but _this_ felt like it would be a whole different kettle of fish compared to the last time.

They don't notice her at first—busy setting up their own bunks, talking and calling and yelling over one another, a rowdy group playfighting already. Some have stripped down to the waist, and she averts her eyes from those in their shorts as she walks determinedly to the empty bed at the end of the cabin.

It's as she's taking these steps that they start to fall quiet, some hastily scrabbling for shirts and slacks, the others watching her bemusedly, until one speaks out. Hodge, she thought she remembered him announcing on the ride from New York to New Jersey, one who had the looks of a man just looking to cause trouble.

“You lost, sweetheart?” He follows along, taking one stride for every two of hers, but she doesn't quicken her pace. No need to let him feel as though he's intimidating her. “The nurses bunk in cabin four, down the way.” And she's not at all surprised that he _already_ knows that. “I'd be happy to take you over.”

“Good grief, not here ten minutes and you already needed to see the nurse? If a little roughhousing sends you running for help, I think you may be in the wrong line of work.” The saccharine words falter his steps, but Hodge is determined.

“What I'm sayin' is, you seem to be lookin' to bunk here, honey. This is for the soldiers.”  
  
“Oh, good, I'm in the right place.” _Just a little further_ and she'd be at the empty bunk, sandwiched between the wall and an underfed blond. “I've volunteered, same as you.”

That stops Hodge in his tracks, blinking, confused as to why a _woman_ would want to sign up to be on the front line. It takes a few moments for him to speak again, and the leer on his face forewarns Nora of what's to come.

“You're not worried about bein' the only woman bunking with a cabinful of men?”

 _Finally_. Nora comes to a stop at the empty bunk, turns and casts a cursory eye over the men now staring at her. “Don't worry, gentlemen. I'll return you to your mamas with your virtue in one piece. This bunk taken?”

The question is directed at the skinny blond on the bunk beside hers, fighting hard to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “All yours, ma'am.”

Hodge’s mouth opens and closes, before he stomps back to his bunk, clearly unused to being dismissed so thoroughly. Nora examines the blond out of the corner of her eye, as he neatly stacks his books in his footlocker, clothes folded carefully and laid on top. He's quiet, had been the entire ride over, with blond strands that more often than not fall onto his forehead and bright blue eyes. He looks to be about her height, if not a scant inch taller, skinny enough that a strong gust of breath might knock him over.

Nora has to wonder if maybe he's another one of Erskine's _chances_.

She doesn't ask, doesn't talk, just goes about stowing her clothes and books. She's thankful she thought to press her undergarments between her clothes, lest any of the boys see her slip and _swoon_ , as she tucks everything away neatly into her footlocker, stowing her duffel under her bed.

It's when she strips off her coat, leaving her in her grey shirtsleeves, tucking the hammer into her belt as she picks up the rope, that the men start paying her attention again. She casts a critical eye over her bunk, mentally plotting the area to curtain off. There's a column at the end of her bunk, between hers and the blond's, and she hums thoughtfully before putting a booted foot on the nightstand and hefting herself up, placing one of the nails against the wall, and tapping it in with the hammer.

Then she takes the rope, and begins to tie it—until it refuses to stay knotted. After a few minutes and a lot of frustrated sighing, Nora hears the clearing of a throat somewhere by her thigh. “I don't mean to bother you, ma'am, but I'd like to help.”

It's her quiet bunkmate, earnest and kind with his smile, not condescending as she imagines men like Hodge might be. It's for that reason she steps down off the nightstand and gestures for him to take over. “On two conditions. Y'quit callin' me _ma'am_ , and tell me your name.”

He smiles wide, and though his stature may make some girls glance past him, she's struck by how handsome he is-- it's not the face, but the warmth in it, the kindness that lights up impossibly blue eyes. He sticks out a hand, prim and proper. “Steve Rogers.”

“Nora Joseph.” And with that, Steve Rogers steps up on the nightstand and begins tying a complicated knot around the nail. He explains it as he does, again, surprising her; had she asked any of these other men, they'd have done it and not said a word on how, thinking her too simple to grasp the concept of a _knot_. But Steve wants her to learn it too.

Nora thinks she may have found the one good guy in this entire camp.

He helps her set up the rest of her little partition, wrapping the rope around the column and holding the chair they'd shuffled over steady while she tapped the second nail in and talked her through the knot.

As he helped set up the sheets, he told her about himself. Brooklyn born and raised but his ma had come over straight from Ireland; parents met in the first war, and he didn't really remember his pa. His best friend was called to service, in the 107th.

In return, Nora tells him about her family. Four brothers, George, David, Michael and Matthew; their parents had died when she was three, leaving George, at 14 and the eldest, in charge of wrangling and looking after his siblings. Steve's look of realisation as she explain this makes her laugh as she throws her makeshift partition over the rope, a quick loop stitch ensuring the boys couldn't _accidentally_ tug it down.

Steve is starting to understand how Nora takes the idea of rooming with nineteen men in her stride.

“So where are your brothers now?” Steve asks as Nora examines their handiwork with a critical eye, tugging the partitions to the column and tying them to it, for now. She'd undo them and curtain her section off when sleeping and changing, but saw no need to hide herself now.

Nora sits on her bunk, offering a rueful smile. “Where all fighting men eventually end up. In a graveyard far from home. I don't think the Nazis took too kindly to their smart mouths.”

“I'm sorry.” It's genuine, heartfelt, unlike the empty condolences she'd received when they'd died. Her smile lifts, just a little.

She's definitely found a friend in Steven Grant Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh i have zero idea how the military works and i know the likelihood of what Nora did and actually getting into the military and rooming with a bunch of guys is like zero but.... they also turned a guy from starving artist to gym junkie in 5 seconds flat with The Hot Machine so .... priorities? Don't @ me abt it just roll with it


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No? It looks like you won't fight anyone unless they're smaller than you. It's no wonder the women of America are joining the ranks, when they see boys like you shipped off and doing little to stop the Fuhrer.”

Nora'd been right about Hodge. A bully and a pig, she doesn't bother hiding the delighted grin when Agent Carter puts him in his place—coincidentally, in the dirt, at her feet.

Nora would later unashamedly admit to a bemused Steve that she wanted to be Agent Carter when she _grew up._

Colonel Phillips falters in his rousing speech about Project Rebirth when he first sees Steve and then Nora, side by side with straight backs and attentive expressions. Nora doesn't miss the way his gaze slides to Dr Erskine and Agent Carter, questioning, only to be met with an amused quirk of lips and a raised eyebrow, respectively.

The training is gruelling and hard, but Nora wouldn't expect it to be any different. From the early mornings, where she had to wake even earlier than the men, binding her chest as much as possible to prevent any _hindrance_ , to the competition as everyone tries to prove themselves worthy of being selected for Project Rebirth. No-one really knows what it entails, but they all know they want it more than anyone else.

Nora makes fast friends with Steve, the scrawny little blond with more determination in his little finger than in the whole bodies of the other men in the cabin. He's unsure of her at first, but she chalks it down to being the _little guy_ —unused to women talking to him and not whatever other man is around at the time.

The training takes it's toll on Steve, moreso than Nora. The men in their unit won't outright bully her as they do Steve—stepping on his fingers as he climbs the rope wall and loses his grip, kicking out the posts in the mudfield, leaving him trapped under barbed wire. He pushes through it, not without getting into more than one scrap leaving him with bumps and bruises. These fights only stop when Nora walks into the room; as though she were a Sister of the Church, prone to swooning at the sight of blood, as though she weren't training alongside them.

It irritates her, that they don't and probably would never see her as a soldier, and her gut feels heavy with guilt that she doesn't do more to help Steve—she needs to prove herself too, and stopping to help him anytime he struggles would damage both of their chances.

“I'm sorry, Steve.” Nora sits on her bunk with her book in her hands, though she idly fiddles with the pages instead of flipping them. He looks up from the letter he's writing in surprise, eye ringed in purple from the latest scrap.

“I'd forgive you, if I knew what you were apologisin' for.” He's getting more comfortable talking with her, it's easy to tell in the way he injects humour into their conversations.

“I should probably do more to help when they start in on you but... you understand why I don't, right?” Nora twists on her bunk, marking her place in her book and setting it aside. Steve puts his letter aside and does the same, giving her his full attention with a wry smile.

“For the same reason I don’t help you, I guess, not that you look like you need it most of the time.” Steve shrugs. “It's nothin', Nora. We're both competing for this chance, at the end of the day. I'm glad at least one competitor is worth fighting against.”

Nora grins and is about to reply when that _ridiculous buffoon of a man_ calls out from across the cabin, disruptive and loud.

“Hey lovebirds, this ain't the marital suite! When you're done with the little guy, hon, make your way over. I'll show you some moves they don't teach in basic.”

Steve doesn't shoot off his bed so much as exasperatedly roll off it, ready to defend both of them to the crowd of leering boys, but Nora beats him to it.

She's off her bed and walking down the cabin with calm, measured steps, expressionless and cool. The men part like the red sea, unsure of her intentions, but she doesn't stop, making a beeline to the door. “Come along, Hodge. Let's see these moves.”

The door she leaves wide open, enough for the men to see her stride down the steps with purpose, finally coming to a stop in the clearing they'd been training in earlier in the day. Hand to hand combat—she hadn't participated, not out of her own unwillingness, but the unwillingness of the men around her to fight a _woman_.

Hodge follows her out, but Steve can tell the man is unaware that the fire in her eyes isn't passion. And it's for that reason alone he follows them out, taking a seat on the timber railing of the porch, the other men following along.

Steve did love a good show.

“Are you ready?” Nora asks, and her opponent, the very picture of not-ready as he stands with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his lips.

“Ready for what, dollface?”

Nora's answer comes in the form of a flat booted kick to his chest, enough power behind it to send Hodge sprawling with a grunt.

Shouts of surprise echo around Steve, and he watches quietly as Hodge looks up at her in surprise, a hand to the footprint etched in dirt on his chest.

“Come on Hodge, up you get. Show me your moves.” Nora knows she shouldn't be letting her temper get the best of her, but she's sick of being underestimated. “I was promised a lesson.”

“I ain't gonna fight a girl!” His shout and the crowd of their cabin is drawing other spectators too; the next cabin over has poured out to watch, the nurses on their way to the mess, Steve's even fairly certain he caught a glimpse of Colonel Phillips, watching quiet and stoic.

“No? It looks like you won't fight _anyone_ unless they're smaller than you. It's no wonder the women of America are joining the ranks, when they see _boys_ like you shipped off and doing little to stop the Fuhrer.”

Steve can tell she hit a nerve with the way Hodge scrambles to his feet, hands fisting up as he moves into a basic fighting stance. Nora grins. Wiggles her fingers. _Come and get me._

She dodges his first punch, and though the second hits her shoulder with a dull _thud_ that Steve can hear from his perch, she catches his fist on the third, bending his arm and holding it at an unnatural angle as she delivers five rapid-blow punches to his ribs that have Hodge yelling in pain before he kicks out, hitting her knee.

Nora grunts and loses hold of his hand, and staggers when his next blow splits her lip. She takes a few steps back, spitting out blood and grinning. “There we go.”

Money's changing hands and bets are being called all around the little arena that's been created around the pair, and a few soldiers make as if to split up the fight, but Colonel Phillips holds up a hand to stop them, watching with a critical eye. Steve spots Agent Carter and Doctor Erskine, silently slipping through to the front of the crowd as Nora pushes forward, feinting left before sliding right around Hodge, kicking his legs out from behind him, forcing him to his knees.

His shout of rage echoes as he spins, fist making contact with her ribs with a loud _crack_ that has her crying out and everyone around wincing as Hodge climbs to his feet—though he falters at her shout of pain.

Nora refuses to tap out.

In a move she knows she probably shouldn't use, she plants her feet on the ground, back to him as she pushes her hip into his, an arm locked under his as she grabs the other—and in a quick move, she drops her weight and flips him over hip, landing him in the dirt in front of her with a yell that silences the spectators. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck, y'all, I'm an attention whore. Thank you for commenting you liked it! I was gonna space out my chapters but I saw two comments and my head grew three sizes and I got over excited like "lol oop post"
> 
> How do write fight scenes


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We got that taken at Coney. Cost us five bucks for two of ‘em, almost half of what we had on us. The rest got us a ride on the Cyclone and a lemonade after I threw up. Then Buck... uh... hustled some guys out of enough for the train home.”

_26 April, 1943_

 

_Buck,_

_Hope you're well. Don't start on teasing me for saying that, what do you want me to start with? Hope you're on a glorious battlefield filled with the screams of your enemies?_

_Actually, knowing you..._

_Just kidding._

_Basic's horrible, thank you for asking. Still, better than being in a factory or salvaging scrap._

_And believe it or not, I made a friend. The soldier in the next bunk over, and, again, believe it or not... he's a she!_

_I'm not kidding. Seems the doctor who gave me a chance gave her one too. She's real great, though I think if you two ever met my life would end up on the line. You'd get on like a house on fire._

_Can you believe she actually apologised for not helping when the others made life difficult for me? As though they weren't doing the exact same to her!_

_She's with the nurses at the moment. She picked a fight. It was incredible. She pulled this move that had the other guy—almost a whole head and shoulders taller than her! – flat on his back in the dirt in front of her._

_And then she said “I think I've made my point. If you'll all excuse me.” And walked off to the nurses, blood dripping down her chin, holding her cracked ribs and limping, but tall and proud._

_She's a good person. I think you'd like her._

_Don't do anything stupid until I catch up._

_-S.G. Rogers._

* * *

_1 May, 1943_

_You're an artist, Steve. Show me what the dame looks like._

_All the stupid's still back with you._

_-J.B. Barnes._

* * *

_12 May, 1943_

_So you're the illustrious Bucky I've heard all about. I wrangled Steve into letting me add my letter to his._

_He says you're a bull in a china shop and you don't know your left foot from your right. **(**_ **There's a series of squiggles, as though the writer had suddenly lost control of the pen.)**

_Ok, I'm lying, he's said nothing but good things. He tried to take the pen off me but I guilted him into letting me keep it by saying I have no-one to write to back home, so he has to let me borrow his friend._

_I mean I do, but I can't tell Rita and Franny that I'm training to be on the front lines. I doubt they'd respond, they were just my dormmates, we weren't especially close._

_You're lucky to have Steve. He's good people. I hope you don't mind me borrowing him, just for a little while._

_And no matter what he told you, I did not limp away from that fight. It was a victory walk._

_-N.R. Joseph._

* * *

_12 May, 1943_

_If she ever finds out I did this, you're going down._

_S.G. Rogers._

 

Bucky Barnes whistles low and in awe at the page torn from Steve's sketchbook, the final piece of paper in the thick envelope that had arrived for him this morning. _Nora_ is written in Steve's steady script in the left corner, and the page is filled with sketches of the woman. A sketch from behind, a brush pulled through curls by slim fingers. A close up of her eyes, coloured and shaded to catch the rings of brown and gold fading into green, framed with thick lashes and perfectly arched brows. A profile of a woman standing at parade rest, hair tied in a ponytail and curling to her shoulder blades, a khaki band holding loose strands back from her face. A strong nose and full lips. And a neat portrait of her—Nora—grinning bright and warm.

* * *

_20 May, 1943_

_Nora,_

_Is it ok if I call you Nora? Seeing as you've “borrowed" my buddy for the time being. Hope you're taking good care of him. If anything, it's Steven Grant Rogers who doesn't know his left foot from his right. Ask him to dance, you'll see what I mean._

_So what's a doll like you enlisting to be on the front line? Not that I don't applaud your courage, I'm just curious as to why. Stevie's given you high praise, so I've got no doubt in your abilities._

_Though from the way he gushed about you after your fight with that tough guy, we should just be sending you up to Berlin to put Adolf in his place._

_Now, I know Steve will tell me he's fine, but I'm counting on you to tell me the truth. How is he? If I find out the other guys are tossing him around like a ragdoll, I just might go AWOL._

_Regards,_

_-J.B. Barnes_

* * *

 

_20 May, 1943_

_You gotta introduce me when you two eventually make your way over here._

_If you're not already first in line, in which case, I will gladly bow out. One of the nurses here, Betty, she's a real pin-up blonde. I could settle._

_-J.B. Barnes_

* * *

 

Nora had been surprised when her name was called during the morning mail. Who would be writing to her?

And then she notices that the letter that Steve received has the same script addressing it to him, remembers writing a letter with Steve with painkillers pumping through her veins in one of the beds of the infirmary.  

Nora grins, tucking the letter in her pocket to read later.

* * *

 

“Hey Steve, do you have a picture of Bucky?” Nora asks quietly that night. The lamp on the nightstand between their beds is the only one on, her makeshift partition open just enough to see him sitting up against his headboard, pencil scratching against the sketchbook he never lets her see.

She doesn't mind that he sees her in her silk camisole and trousers, hair ragged and pinned, ready for tomorrow. She's trying to pen a letter to Bucky in reply to his, but she's stuck trying to imagine the man that these words belong to; a man on the front lines of war more worried about the state of his best friend.

“Am I allowed to ask why?” Steve teases, though he's already flipping through his sketchbook. Nora waves the letter at him, grinning.

“I wanna put a face to the name of the illiterate fool behind this waffle.” She replies, and he chuckles, leaning over the gap to hand Nora a photograph.

“We got that taken at Coney. Cost us five bucks for two of ‘em, almost half of what we had on us. The rest got us a ride on the Cyclone and a lemonade after I threw up. Then Buck... uh... hustled some guys out of enough for the train home.”

She wishes she could have seen the photograph being taken, something about it lost in the monochromatic black and white. Steve's smile in the photo is that of someone about to burst into laughter, laughter she's sure was caused by the dark-haired man with the crooked smile, sharp cheekbones and a chiselled jawline. Dark hair slicked and parted perfectly, a nose that's been broken perhaps more than once. Eyes that could be green or blue and she wished she had a way to ask Steve that he wouldn't tease her for.

“Not what I expected.” She hums instead, passing the photo back. It's all she says on the matter, and Steve gives her a knowing grin, one that she responds to by tossing her pen at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love Bucky as my penpal.
> 
> Edit: y'all i fucked up I'm rewatching CA:TFA and Colonel Phillips mentions that they're only at Camp Lehigh for a week. Officially calling this a timeline alteration lmaoo woops. As you can tell by the letters, they're obvi there for more than a week.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 24 May, 1943
> 
> Oh sure, I'll introduce you to her. I need you two to meet like I need a shattered spine.
> 
> S.G. Rogers.
> 
> P.S. She asked to see a picture of you

_24 May, 1943_

_I suppose I've got no objections to being called Nora. Not that they'd make any difference, in any case. Steve refused to dance, by the way, saying that you were setting him up to fall on his face, which proves your point either way._

_Why did I enlist? Same sad story everyone else has, I guess. Four brothers, each buried on a different battlefield. Don't have anything else to lose, so I tried my luck. They literally threw me out on my behind at the Queens centre, but I got lucky at Stark Expo, running into that Doctor. He gave me a chance._

_You and Steve are terrible at letter writing. You talk so much about each other, worry about each other. You ever worry about yourselves?_

_How's Steve doing? Let's see. This week alone he has:_

  * _Gotten into four fights on three different days;_
  * _Had his face pummelled into the dirt in hand to hand; and_
  * _Had minimum of at least one minor asthma attack per day._



_Despite this, despite the other guys doing their best to undermine him, he's got more determination in his little finger than the rest of these pansies would if there were two of them. If I had to lose this chance to anyone, I'd want it to be Steve. I want to have the chance to get to the front lines, and I'm going to try my hardest but... Steve deserves it too._

_Aw, he's turning me into a cheese._

_You better not win the war before we get to the front lines. That'd just be unfair._

_Sincerely,_   
_N.R. Joseph_

* * *

  
_24 May, 1943_

 

_Oh sure, I'll introduce you to her. I need you two to meet like I need a shattered spine._

 

_S.G. Rogers._

_P.S. She asked to see a picture of you._

* * *

  
_30 May, 1943_

 

_I told you, two left feet. He says he's waiting for the right dame. I say he's too afraid to step on her foot. Seems like having you around is loosening him up a little, so I should thank you for that._

  
_I'm his only family, can't help worrying about him. You must've been around him long enough by now to know he never backs down from a fight. You telling me you wouldn't be worried if your 90-lbs-soaking-wet buddy went around picking fights with guys twice his size because he caught them knocking someone else around for fun?_

_Speaking of family, I'm sorry about what happened to yours. I can't imagine how you must feel._

_I hope that, somehow, you both get a chance. You both worked hard, earned this right._

_Kindest,_   
_J.B. Barnes_

* * *

  
_30 May, 1943_

 

_You are a menace and a pain, Steven Grant Rogers, I'm so ashamed of you. Why'd she ask for the picture? What did she say?_

  
_You don't just add something like that as a postscript, an afterthought!_

  
_You are a terrible friend._

_-J.B. Barnes_

* * *

  
_5 June, 1943_

 

_I'm your only friend, pal._

_But I'll take pity on you. She asked to see one because, and I directly quote: “I wanna put a face to the name of the illiterate fool behind this waffle.”_

_Ouch._

_I showed her that one from Coney. She looked at it for a little, then gave it back, and said “Not what I expected.”_   
_Then she threw her pen at me._

_There. Play by play._

_-S.G. Rogers_

_P.S. It could've been the lighting, but I think she blushed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay ive uploaded as much as I should because if I upload everything ive got im gonna run out of steam again but I HAVE PLANS for dis ting here thank u all for all the love 
> 
> That being said concrit is good for the soul pls advise


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to say thank you, for being accepting of me. Standing up for me, being my friend, lending me yours. After this is all over, the three of us are going to catch dinner and a movie, and we'll go dancing.

_12 June, 1943_

_Bucky,_

_You won't believe what Steve did today. Nothing bad, promise! He just outsmarted everyone and showed off while somehow still being humble about it._

_I think sometimes the Lord really did craft this guy with a heart of gold._

_We were on a run, the whole outfit, around camp. Full uniforms, full packs, it's sweltering, midday. Training us for the toughest conditions or so._

_We come to a stop at the midway point, where the Agent's waiting in a truck. Captain Tin Can up the front is shouting something about how it's a halfway point, and anyone who can get the flag down gets to ride back with the Agent._

_The guys are practically stepping on each other to get up top, but they keep sliding down the pole until Sergeant Stupid tells everyone to fall back in line._

_And what does your buddy do?_

_Strolls (staggers) up to the pole, leans down, pulls the pin out, and the pole swings down._

_For the first time in seventeen years, someone's gotten the flag. And Steve, polite as you please, folds up the flag, gives it to Sergeant Sucker, says “Thank you, sir.” And hops in the truck._

_It was worth the run back to see how quiet the other guys were that they'd been outsmarted so thoroughly._

_Enough about us. You always seem so chipper in your letters. It can't be a ball on the front lines, even if you're putting on a metaphorical face for your buddy._

_Just saying... You can talk to me if you need to._

_Best,_

_N.R. Joseph_

* * *

_18 June, 1943_

_You're still a terrible friend._

_~~Did she really? What does that mean? Steve I swear to~~ _

_I hate you._

_Stay safe there, and quit picking fights with guys bigger than you._

_-J.B. Barnes_

* * *

 

_18 June, 1943_

_Nora,_

_You know, I can believe it. He always was a smart one. The looks on those guys faces... wish I could have seen it._

_And thank you. I guess keeping things chipper in the letters is better than writing back about all the horrible things I see._

_~~There's so much dea~~ _

_~~It's awful how~~ _

_~~I've done some~~ _

_~~“horrible, unending nightmare" is how I'd desc~~ _

_I guess talking to you two about pretty much anything else keeps me sane. It's why I don't stew over what's happening at the front in these letters. You two will see it when you get here. I'd rather you don't, but I know you both well enough to know that you two will find your way over here one way or another._

_But thank you._

 

_I appreciate the offer._

_Kindest,_

_J.B. Barnes._

* * *

 

_20 June, 1943_

_Bucky,_

_~~You should've just scrapped the paper if you didn't want me to read~~ _

_~~It can't be easy but it'll be worth~~ _

_~~War makes everyone do things they don't~~ _

**(The writing changes, as though the letter had been put down and picked up in two different locations at two different parts of the day.)**

 

_Bucky, I feel terrible. The Agent came to me today, pulled me out of training. They’re giving me a chance, Bucky, a chance!_

_I don’t know what it means, for me, for Steve. I’m actually writing this in a car on the way back to… I don’t know. They won’t tell me._

 

_I should be happy, but..._

_I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Steve. Agent Carter said, pack up, lets go. That’s it. I asked her if she’d give me time to say goodbye to Steve, and she said we couldn’t. I left him a letter. I hope he can forgive me._

_I don’t know if this will affect Steve’s chances. I don’t think it’s the big project they were rearing for, seeing as how they’ve still got Steve and the other boys going through the selection process._

_I also don’t know how long until I’ll be able to write to you again. It all seems… fairly secretive._

_Please be safe. I don’t think Steve would be able to cope if you were hurt._

_And I don’t want to have to find a new penpal. Ha ha._

_Fondest,_

_Nora R. Joseph._

* * *

 

_20 June, 1943_

_Steve,_

_I'm sorry. If I knew this was going to happen when Agent Carter pulled me out of training, I'd have done more than shrug at you as a goodbye._

_The SSR is giving me a chance. Peggy—Agent Carter—says she doesn't know if it’ll stop you from your chance. If it works, she said, you'd be the next in line to receive it. If not, well..._

_I wanted to say thank you, for being accepting of me. Standing up for me, being my friend, lending me yours. After this is all over, the three of us are going to catch dinner and a movie, and we'll go dancing._

_Stay safe. Stay alive. Stay good._

_If I can write you again from wherever it is we're headed, I will._

_Yours,_

_Nora._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched IW for a second time and i'm still shattered. Like... hey russo bros turn on your location man i just wanna talk really....
> 
> doug eiffel voice: _transmitting from the U.S.S. Horrible Unending Nightmare_
> 
> merci beaucoup to [goldblumesque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldblumesque/pseuds/goldblumesque) for bein the greatest enabler and beta reader out there. They are also writing a bangin' IW fix-it v worth checking out


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You sure are a scrappy one, aren’t ya?” Were she any other girl, seeing Howard Stark sitting beside her bed with his boots up on her bed, flipping through the newspaper, would set her heart aflutter. But Nora is not any other girl, and her heart does not flutter, flap, or fly out of her chest, but continues beating, exhausted, yet strong. Steady. Still alive. That’s good.
> 
> "I had four brothers."

“Can I know where we're headed?” Nora asks as she signs and addresses the letter to Bucky, enclosing it in the envelope. She's running low on stationary, would have to pick up some more wherever it is they're headed.

“Brooklyn. We've a base of operations there.” Peggy says from beside her, a teasing smile on her lips. “I'd've told you earlier except I was sure you'd put it in that letter you were so furiously scribbling. Husband?”

Nora's lips twitch, and she turns her head to disguise the faint pink on her cheeks as she tucks the letter into the pocket of her coat to mail later. “Just a friend, out on the front lines.”

“You can mail it when we stop. Dr Erskine will explain the full project to you, and hopefully, you will be our first successful trial.”

“Hopefully.”

* * *

 

“So you're trying to create... a super soldier.” Nora says it slowly, trying to wrap her mind around the absurdity of it. Doctor Erskine nods. He's already told her the story of Johann Schmidt, the leader of the deep science division, Hydra. The experimental serum. The serum they wanted to put in her.

“It should theoretically be a simple procedure. A series of injections into the major muscle groups, and poof, you wake up a super soldier.” It's a rather simple way of putting it, likely for her ease of understanding, and she nods.

“But it's not just the muscles it enhances it's--"

“—Everything, yes. Good becomes great, bad becomes worse.” Dr Erskine moves about the little surgery where he'd done her physical, deeming her fit and healthy enough to participate in the procedure. Nora laughs quietly under her breath, and when the Doctor gives her a questioning look, she shakes her head.

“My mom used to sing this nursery rhyme. I don't remember it all but I remember the last line. _When she was good, she was very good indeed, but when she was bad, she was horrid._ I guess that’s what the serum does.”

Dr Erskine chuckles, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt. “Exactly.”

Nora takes a breath, twisting her sleeve in her grip before nodding. “Okay. Let's give it a go.”

* * *

 

Nora tries not to flinch as Stark – _Howard Stark!_ – flips a switch on his machine and the clamps swing slowly down onto her skin. The needles pressing into her skin— _that_ makes her flinch.

“You good, doll?” Stark asks, looking pointedly at her lips and hands. Nora closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and releases her lower lip from between her teeth, where she’s bitten it red, unclenching her fists.

“Yes. Yeah.” Forced cheer, she throws a half-hearted flirt of a smirk in his direction. _Don't make a prick joke, don't make a prick joke._ “S'just a little prick, nothing I can't handle.” _Dammit._

Her terrible joke puts a grin on his face, one that had been plastered on newspapers and set girls hearts flying nationwide, and he nods at Dr Erskine. The doctor places a hand on her bare shoulder, a gentle, reassuring touch, before he turns to Stark. “Begin the process.”

There's a beat. Two. The sound of the vials draining, and the vaguely violating and intrusive feeling of a foreign substance being pushed into an already full bloodstream. Leading to a tingling, like the feeling of putting a foot down after it’s gone numb. Tingling that gives way to pins and needles – her face twitches, and Dr Erskine looms over her, concerned.

“I’m good, Doc, just a little unc-“ Her voice cuts off suddenly, a sound between a gasp and a gurgle filling the room.

 

_Pain. So much pain. God it feels like fire burning me from the inside out put it out get it out get it out –_ the words are on the tip of her tongue and her eyes are wide and fearful, though her muscles are tensed, jaw clenched so tight she can’t get a sound out between her lips.

 

“Ms Joseph? Nora, are you okay?” Dr Erskine asks, and it takes all her strength to turn her head, to look at him with wide eyes, pupils blown with the screams her throat won’t let out. Her chest is constricting, breathing is getting hard. The vials are almost empty.

 

High pitched, desperate, _wheezing_ gasps fill the small surgery, and Nora’s vision is going black around the edges.

 

The last thing she remembers is Stark yanking the clamps from her arms while the Doctor pulls vials out of the machine, letting them drop to the floor with loud shatters that echo in her ears.

* * *

 

“You sure are a scrappy one, aren’t ya?” Were she any other girl, seeing Howard Stark sitting beside her bed with his boots up on her bed, flipping through the newspaper, would set her heart aflutter. But Nora is not any other girl, and her heart does not flutter, flap, or fly out of her chest, but continues beating, exhausted, yet strong. Steady. _Still alive. That’s good._

“I had four brothers.” It hurts to talk, jaw aching from being clenched, throat raw – though she’s not sure why. Nora coughs, and Stark offers her the glass of water from the bedside table, holding it to her lips.

“Got a hell of a set on you, too. Nearly burst my eardrums.” Screaming. That would explain the sandpaper rawness.

“Again. I had four brothers.” Her words are stronger now, hands, though shaking, able to lift and carry the glass herself.  Once she’s drained it, he places it on the nightstand for her, shakes out his paper, and continues reading. “So, when’s the next flight to the front? I gotta be on it, don’t I?”

He glances up, for a slight second, enough to witness the way her eyes tighten as she waits for an answer to the unspoken question. _Did it work?_

 

“Like with any prototype, you gotta be tested, first. Relax, pumpkin, there’s a procedure to these things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the poem Nora talks about is a [real one. ](https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-was-a-little-girl/)
> 
> Howard Stark is the most extra character i've ever written. He doesn't show it in this chapter but oh boy just you wait kids


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That's it.” And with that proclamation, Nora pushes up to her feet, stands over the lounge, Stark finally putting his paper down when his sunlight is blocked by five foot seven inches of irritated woman.
> 
> And then she wraps her fingers around the arm rest, and tips the chair, sending a surprised Howard sprawling into the dirt as she rights the chair and plonks herself down on the cushions.

There’s not much of a physical difference, Nora thinks, looking in the mirror after her shower. If anything, the lean muscle she’d acquired during her two months at Camp Lehigh seemed slightly more defined – not by much. She’d had the shower scalding, but her skin had only barely turned pink.

The scars were still there, though. Hypertrophic scars, raised pink gouges on her left side, skin tight and rough, the entire area the size of a grown man’s splayed hand.

_A ringing in her ears, a metallic taste at the back of her throat, and God, god, she can practically feel the wound in her side, can feel it throbbing, can feel more blood pulsing out with each beat of her heart. Looks down – big mistake oh god oh no Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee – Nora prays, prays for help, prays someone will find her where she’s washed up on the side of a river, a forked piece of rebar sticking up through her side._

Nora’d been lucky _,_ found with enough time to save her. The rebar had missed anything vital, just barely glancing off the outside of her ribcage. “Leaving behind one ugly scar.” She murmurs to herself, putting aside her towel and dressing.

Something had worked. In the morning, they would test what.

* * *

The course they have her running around is almost an exact replica of Camp Lehigh. Nora clears the track course in 40 seconds, where it would’ve once been three minutes. She manages running with weights on her back up to 420 pounds before she starts breaking a sweat. Her fist goes straight through the training dummy. When they draw a knife across her shoulder, it begins to heal within two hours, and it’s faded over, looking two days old by the end of the day.

But it’s not… enough. She’s supposed to be able to do more. Be more.

“So. Should I be bookin’ my ticket to the front?” She asks lightly. Stark, Agent Carter and Dr Erskine were before her as she wipes sweat and dirt from her brow.

It doesn't look like they're happy with the results.

“We'd like to keep you here a few more weeks. Just a few more things to test, make sure there are no negative side effects.” Dr Erskine is the one who speaks, and Nora tries not to let her shoulders slump, tries not to be ungrateful. Nods once. Turns on her heel and heads towards the room she's been given.

Trying very hard not to feel like the poor mouse in the cage of a lab.

* * *

“How many more courses are you gonna push me through? Gonna start pelting me with bullets next?” It's just her and Stark today. After flying them out to a minor canyon, he'd dropped her at the bottom and told her to meet him at the top.

Now nearing top, she yells out at him as she uses her gloved fingertips to create a handhold in the rock. It's still odd to see the way it crumbles under her grip like paper, creating a divot for her to hold onto and hoist herself up. “Honestly, I think you're all just doing this for fu—oh _for the love of--"_

“What? It's no beachfront but I'm not passing up an opportunity like this.” Stark doesn't even look at her from where he's set up an _honest to God_ sun lounge, the kind usually found beside a pool, stripped off his shirt and shoes and is sat with his newspaper.

The lounge even has _cushions_.

And here's Nora, covered head to toe in rockdust and scratches, pulling herself up over the side and sprawling on her back in the dirt, staring up at the sky. Lord give me strength not to kill this man.

“Not bad, took you less time than I estimated.” The sound of rustling paper as he flips a page. “Now can you do it with weights on your back?”

“That's it.” And with that proclamation, Nora pushes up to her feet, stands over the lounge, Stark finally putting his paper down when his sunlight is blocked by five foot seven inches of irritated woman.

And then she wraps her fingers around the arm rest, and tips the chair, sending a surprised Howard sprawling into the dirt as she rights the chair and plonks herself down on the cushions. “Tell it to me straight, Stark. You're all either stalling or you're not sending me to the front. Which is it?”

He looks up at her from the graceless sprawl he's found himself in on the dirt, eyebrow raised over the darkened lenses of his glasses. She stares back unflinchingly.

“Look, kid--"

“Don't call me that, I'm only four years younger than you.”

“Look, _pal_.” Stark props himself up on his elbows, looking at her over the top of his glasses. Meeting her gaze. “It's not the SSR saying no, alright? Most likely they'll keep you in a lab or stick you in strategics with Carter.”

_Stalling. They were goddamn stalling and keeping her away from the fight God damn it all to Hell!_

Her hand tightens around the arm of the chair, twisting the frame out of shape (to an indignant sound from Stark), anger rising up before she tamps down on it, lying back and looking up at the blue sky with a huff.

“You know what, Stark? You and the entire United States Army can shove your chauvinism where the sun don't shine.” Nora shuts her eyes, flinging her arm over them, soaking up the midday heat. “Just leave me here. Maybe if I stay in the sun long enough I'll grow into something acceptable.”

There's a snort of laughter somewhere to her left hip. “Now that, pumpkin, I'd pay... to... _hang on._ ” There's a scrambling, enough so that Nora lifts her arm off her eyes, cocking a brow at Stark where he now stands over her, blocking out her sun. “Say that again.”

“The part about shoving your chauvinism in unpleasant places?” The cocked brow rises further. “If you want me to insult you, I can come up with a greater variety, I don't need to recycle--"

“Insult me later. The thing about the sun. Say that again.”

Nora drops her arm to her side, confused, but indulging him. “Maybe if I stay in the sun long enough I'll grow into something acceptable.”

He stares at her a few beats, and she can practically see the gears in his brain working before he exclaims, “That's it! We need to go back to Brooklyn. Bring the chair.”

“What?”

He whirls around, buttoning up his shirt, a manic grin on his face. “Oh you beautiful genius, you don't even know. The sun stimulates growth. What if we flooded the subject with – hmm, no that wouldn't work. Maybe if we... I need to think. I need a chalkboard. I need a coffee, a lab, a week and that skinny friend of yours.”

_“What?”_

“And bring the chair!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next 24-72 hours see Howard Stark getting hopped up on coffee, accidentally causing a blackout on three different blocks, discovering Vita Radiation with Dr A. Erskine and inventing the Super Soldier Machine that would then go on to create Captain America as we know him today. 
> 
> He then had a nap.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Peggy? She’s fine. I told her you asked after her. I think I even saw cartoon hearts in her eyes when I mentioned your name. You should take her dancing, next time you’re on the same continent._   
>    
>  _Am I being too subtle?_   
>    
>  _Affectionately,_   
>  _Nora._

_27 June, 1943_

 

_Bucky,_

_How have you been? I finally have some time to write. On my way over to London, in fact._

_They gave me my chance... of a sort._

_They won't let me to the front. If they knew, if you knew what I'd been through to get here, they wouldn't be sticking me behind some desk._

_Steve’s getting his chance, though. I was the prototype, I suppose. They'll get it right for him. I just know it._

_Warmest Regards,_

_N.R. Joseph._

_P.S. I've been meaning to ask. J.B. – what does it stand for?_

* * *

 

_27 June, 1943_

_Steve,_

_Hope you're well._

_So they're giving you a chance! Congratulations! Hopefully it's successful. Then you can go out and win the war for us._

_I have to say, I miss my bunkmate. The room they've set me up with is too quiet._

_Awaiting your letter eagerly, tell me all about it!_

_Fondly,_

_Nora._

* * *

 

_3 July, 1943_

_Nora,_

_~~I'm glad to hear from~~ _

_~~Thank you for your le~~ _

_~~I missed your letters while~~ _

_~~It's wonderful to hear from yo~~ _

**_~~Why is it so hard to write a stupid let~~ _ **

****

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry you went through everything you did, both what I know of and what I don’t, just for them to stick you behind a desk. It's not fair._

_I won't lie, though, and I hope you'll forgive me, I'm... glad you're not here. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't think you'd be able to handle it._

_~~There's just so much dea~~ _

_~~I know what I'm doing is to win the war but~~ _

_~~We lost a whole unit tod~~ _

 

_I don't even want to be here right now. No-one does. Your letter actually came at the perfect time. A perfect distraction._

_Sincerely,_

_J.B. Barnes._

_P.S. I'll tell you what J.B. stands for if you tell me what R stands for._

* * *

 

_4 July, 1943._

_Nora,_

_I'm sorry for not writing back sooner._

_The procedure worked._

_And Dr Erskine was killed._

_He didn't deserve to die, Nora. He was a good man. And he was shot down like he was nothing._

_Colonel Phillips won't put me out on the front line. It's where I should be, but he won't._

_“I asked for an army and all I got was you. You are not enough.”_

_You must be being deployed soon, if they've sent you to London. I'm glad one of us gets to go. If it had to be anyone, I'm glad it's you._

_Senator Brandt has me doing a sales thing. Please don't be too ashamed to associate with me if you see the posters._

_Stay safe, so we can go get dinner and a movie with Buck when the war's over._

_Yours,_

_Steve._

* * *

 

_10 July, 1943_

_Bucky,_

_If you don't want me to read what you're scoring out so aggressively, you should scrap the paper and start over, because now I'm worried for you._

_It can't be easy on the front. War isn't a picnic. We knew this when we enlisted. We just have to push through it. Hopefully, it'll be all over soon. We'll win this war. We will. And then you'll go home, and Steve, you and I will go to the best dance hall we can find._

_I'm sure I can even manage to convince the Agent—Peggy—to come along. She's sweet on your boy, I think._

_You didn't hear it from me, though._

_Always happy to distract,_

_Nora Rose Joseph._

* * *

 

_12 July, 1943_

_Steve,_

_No-one told me. Steve, I'm so sorry. No-one told me he was killed. He didn't deserve it, Lord, he didn't. I'm so sorry._

_I know the feeling. They... didn't put me on the front either. I'm stuck behind a desk at the SSR. I feel so useless. I was never a books and strategy person._ _Howard Stark drops by every now and again with toys for me to test, though. That's fun, at the very least._

_I could never be ashamed to associate with you._ _If your sales thing ever brings you out my way, we'll get dinner._

_Missing you, pal._

_Nora._

* * *

 

_25 July, 1943_

_Nora,_

_Looks like this didn’t go either of our ways, then._

_I don’t know that we’ll make it out to your end of the world, but they’ve got me doing a show in each state here. Bond sales._

_It’s… sure something._

_You rubbing shoulders with the likes of Stark, now? I must be writing to royalty then. I hear he’s a bit of a ladies’ man, be careful with him. Although, I feel I don’t need to tell you that. You can put him in his proper place without even batting an eye, I bet._

_How’s Agent Carter? I haven’t seen her since that day in Brooklyn._

_Stay safe,_

_Steve._

* * *

 

_30 July, 1943_

_Nora,_

_I would've scrapped it, but stationary's in short supply out here. Every resource counts, and what have you._

_Thank you. ~~I was~~   ~~I had~~    ~~we lost a lot that da~~_

_It was a bad day when I wrote that letter. But getting your letters are like sunshine on a cloudy day._

_A dance hall, huh? I don't mean to presume, but I'd like to fill your dance card from now, if that's alright with you, doll. I'll leave maybe two dances for Steve, but if he's sweet on this agent, we should make sure they dance together._

_If that has to be done by filling your card with my name so he has no choice but to dance with the Agent, well, I'll happily take one for the team._

_Sincerely yours,_

_James Buchanan Barnes._

* * *

_12 August, 1943_

_Steve,_

_Aw, don’t worry about me. I’m just using him for the lavish dinners he brings._

_Just kidding. He’s actually not bad to talk to, really. Once you push past the bull that he spews by the minute. He’s kept me surprisingly sane in this bunker._

_Peggy? She’s fine. I told her you asked after her. I think I even saw cartoon hearts in her eyes when I mentioned your name. You should take her dancing, next time you’re on the same continent._

_Am I being too subtle?_

_Affectionately,_

_Nora._

* * *

 

_20 August, 1943_

_Sergeant Barnes,_

_Find enclosed, for your completion and return, my dance card._

_And something extra. Just to ensure you don’t lose your way before our dance._

_With affection,_

_Nora._

Bucky’d always loved presents. Though his Christmases with Steve had been a bit meagre, they’d always ensure they scrounged up enough to swap presents, whether it be a new tie or a thicker sweater, there was always something about ripping open newspaper wrapped gifts. So he smiles, warm and genuine, tucking the dance card safe into his pocket as he unties the twine from the wrapped brown package.

A silver compass. Small enough to fit in his palm, his pocket. When he opens it, his initials are inscribed inside.

Bucky’s grin widens.

 

_Ensuring he doesn’t lose his way before their dance._

 

He presses the compass to his lips. Tosses aside the standard issue brass compass, places the silver compass in his pocket, safe and sound.

And picks up his rifle, hops in the back of the truck shuttling the 107th to push back against the Nazi forces pressing into Italy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M TERRIBLE I'M SORRY
> 
> I was listening to ["In Space, Nobody Can Hear You Disappoint Your Parents"](https://wolf359radio.bandcamp.com/track/in-space-nobody-can-hear-you-disappoint-your-parents) when I wrote this. That is whY IT ENDED HOW IT DID THIS SOUNDTRACK WRECKS MY FEELINGS


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bucky,_  
>  _Ignoring me is childish._  
>  _Still, for some unknown reason, yours._  
>  Nora.

_31 August, 1943_

_Bucky,_

_I don’t mean to bother, but I haven’t received a reply letter. A one sentence will do._

_I hope I wasn’t being too presumptuous with my gift._

 

_Yours,_

_Nora._

* * *

_20 September, 1943._

_Bucky,_

_Ignoring me is childish._

_Still, for some unknown reason, yours._

_Nora._

* * *

_30 September, 1943._

_Bucky,_

_Smoke signals will also work. ~~Are you alive?~~_

_Anxiously and a little irritated,_

_but still yours,_

_Nora._

* * *

 

_1 October, 1943._

_Steve,_

_I don’t want to worry you, but have you received any letters from Bucky lately? He hasn’t responded to any of mine._

_I know it’s not my place, but have you heard anything from him?_

_Kindest,_

_Nora._

* * *

_12 October, 1943._

_Nora,_

_I’m sorry for the delay in reply. I hope you’ll forgive me._

_And I’m sorry, but I don’t know. This Bonds tour the Senator has me on has me moving towns so fast I don’t know which way is up. Could be he’s sent something, and it’s waiting for me at home camp. I’ll let you know as soon as I get back and check, ok?_

_It’ll be the first thing I do, I promise._

_I’m sure he’s fine._

_Chin up,_

_Steve._

* * *

“Sergeant Joseph.”

Nora’s not listening, sitting at her desk, making paper planes out of the files she’s meant to be sorting. They’re nothing important, or they wouldn’t have left them with her. And so, while Private Lorraine flirts her way into a desk at the forefront of the bunker, the centre of the action, Nora gets stuck in the back corner, making paper planes out of file notes. She even mimics a jet fighter’s engine sound as she sends it flying across her dismal corner, where it comes to a stop at the feet of a bemused Agent Carter.

Nora follows the shoes up to the hands on the hips, the quirked red lips and cocked brow. “Are you quite finished, Sergeant?”

“Bite me, Carter.”

“I’m sure those file notes are important.” Peggy picks up the plane, throwing it back at Nora, letting it land on her desk in front of her.

“I repeat my last.” The plane gets crumpled, tossed in the trash can strategically placed a few feet away from her desk, for the challenge of the throw. Peggy snorts, turning on her heel.

“Come on, Joseph. Let’s go. Stark’s on the airstrip, wheels up in twenty, and we’re to be on that plane. To Italy with us.”

A beat passes. Two. And Nora’s chair hits the floor as she scrambles to catch up to Peggy, realising the implications of being put on a flight to Italy.

* * *

 

The Azzano camp is dismal, rain offering brief respite from the thick air as it poured in spurts.

Nora’s in her combat uniform, though she doubts she’ll see any, but it’s easier braving the mud in the leather boots she’d broken in during her time in Camp Lehigh, as opposed to the t-straps they had her wearing with her dress uniform in the bunker.

Peggy’s in the main tent with Stark and Colonel Phillips, and while Nora was _oh so eager_ to see the old goat, she’d forgone sitting in on that particular meeting, instead observing the USO performance set up surprisingly quick in the breaks in the rain.

Seated on the back of a truck, arms crossed, Nora taps her foot absently to the tune of the Captain America showtune the girls onstage are performing. For the most part, the crowd enjoys it. Nothing like a girl in a flashy costume to distract from the horrors of war.

It's all going well until The Man With A Plan himself makes his appearance.

 

Silence.

 

“Who's ready to help me sock ol' Adolf on the jaw?” The voice is familiar, but Nora's too busy feeling second-hand embarrassment for the poor fool up on stage. More silence.

“Okay... Uh... I need a volunteer!”

“I already did, pal, how do you think I got here?” Laughter at the heckler's comments, at the ones that follow.

“Come on, guys, we're all on the same team here.”

_No. No way._

_‘Please don't be too ashamed to associate with me if you see the posters.’_ That's what Steve had said.

Nora's up and running to the wings of the stage, arriving with just enough time to see Steve duck off stage as pieces of fruit come flying at him.

“Steve!” She'll apologise later to the man consoling him with platitudes for interrupting, but she's got no room for manners as she launches herself at Steve. He catches her, most likely out of instinct over recognition, as she wraps her arms around his broad ( _broad_ ) shoulders. “Steve, oh my god!”

“Nora?” He's incredulous at first, before there's a dull clatter of metal as the shield hits the ground, Steve's arms banding around her waist tight, lifting her off her feet. “What're you doing here?”

Nora doesn't respond at first, face pressed into his shoulder, holding on tight and ignoring the looks from the showgirls and passing soldiers. After months of being stuck behind a desk, away from the only friend she's got, Nora finds herself childishly emotional, a lump in her throat that she has to pull herself away and cough to clear.

Steve's looking down at her—down!—and though he's smiling, she can see the same look in his eyes she's sure is in hers. It makes her laugh, and him too.

“My God, Steve, look at you! I can't believe it worked!” Nora has to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes. Still the same kind, blue eyes. He pulls off the woollen cowl he wore during his performance, smiling a little bashfully.

“That it did.” There are stairs to the side of the stage, and he pulls on his raincoat before he gestures for her to sit, before taking a seat by her side. “You don't look much different. Hair's longer.”

“It, uh...” Nora throws a half-grin his way, wry. “It didn't work so well on me. I'm better than before but I think I was the first trial, so they could work out all the kinks. For you.” It's not as bitter as it sounds, not really, and her breath huffs out in a quiet laugh as the rains start up again around them.

“So we made it, then.” Steve says, after a moment of silence. “Just... not how we pictured.” Another beat passes, before Steve smiles at her. “You didn't answer. What _are_ you doing out here?”

Behind Steve, Nora can see Peggy, just inside the main tent as she talks with Howard and the Colonel. Her own grin grows, and she directs her attention back to Steve. “Oh, Howard gets bored on flights alone, so he asked me to take some time out of my busy schedule making paper planes out of file notes to accompany him. I should go check on him, make sure he hasn't left without me.”

Steve's eyes narrow at the mischief she's trying very hard to conceal, but he shrugs as she stands, pulling a small notebook from the pocket of his raincoat. “You go on ahead. I'll... I think it's best if I stay out of the way, for now.”

“I’ll bring you something to eat.” With a smile, bright and cheerful, Nora turns on her heel, making to continue onto the tent Howard had just emerged from, when she pauses. The one question she’d been dying to ask. It hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind when she first saw Steve, but now that she’s had time to process his appearance, to reunite, the question burns on her tongue. “Steve?”

“Yes?” He doesn’t look up from his sketchbook, and she’s grateful.

“Did you… Did you get a chance to check if you’d… If Bucky’d written to you?”

That’s when Steve looks up. Apologetic and quiet. “I haven’t been on home base yet. Sorry, Nora.”

 

“No harm done. I’ll see you around, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all keep gassin me up with your comments like its gonna make me post and write faster
> 
> y'all are right it is


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “C’mon, Stark, I’m hungry.”
> 
> “You always are.”
> 
> “Mhm, that’d be the enhanced metabolism. Let’s raid the mess. I’m sure there are some lovely kitchen girls. This way, c'mon.”
> 
> “When in Italy, do as the Italians do, kid. Y'think they have some quality vino here?”

“Peg, you got three minutes before it starts bucketing down to get across that mud pit and comfort six foot two inches of chemically enhanced sweetheart and I won’t take no for an answer.” Nora puts her hands on the Agent’s shoulders, directing her to the covered stairs where she left Steve.

“Captain Rogers is here?” Peggy’s as surprised as she was, and Nora doesn’t miss the small smile at the mention of Steve’s name.

“Uh-huh, and he’s in need of a friend. Off you go.” As she pushes Peggy in the direction of Steve, leaning against the pole of the tent, arms crossed with a smile.

“You’re awfully subtle, kid. Really.” And there’s Howard, hands in his pockets as he comes to a stop beside Nora.

“We’re in a war, Howard, quite literally on the front lines. They shouldn’t waste time.” Nora shrugs. Bucky springs to mind, briefly, before she pushes it aside. “C’mon, Stark, I’m hungry.”

“You always are.”

“Mhm, that’d be the enhanced metabolism. Let’s raid the mess. I’m sure there are some lovely kitchen girls. This way, c'mon.”

 

“When in Italy, do as the Italians do, kid. Y'think they have some quality vino here?”

* * *

 

“Okay, okay, here—” Nora uses her fork, sculpting her mashed potatoes into a rough shape, using her carrots and peas for detail before Howard smacks his palm on the table with a loud _aha!_

“It's a dog!” He exclaims, before a pea bounces off his moustache.

“It's a cat, fool.” Nora corrects, shoving her mashed potato cat into her mouth, grinning at the offense on Howard’s face.

“They’ve got the same shape!”

“Are you kiddin’? That’s saying that a Great Dane and a Persian are the same thing, idiot.” Nora points her fork at him, eyes narrowed. “This is a rich person thing, isn’t it? Sure, you might have a dog or cat but you don’t know what they look like ‘cause your butler always walks ‘em.”

“Can’t have animals. The girls get too distracted and then they forget about me.” And he looks one hundred percent serious saying it, too.

“ _C’est tragique!_ ”

“Don’t sass me in French, missy.”

“Excuse me, children, might I borrow you both a moment?” Howard and Nora look up to where Peggy stands over them, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Nora looks at Peggy. Back at her food. At Peggy.

 

“Can I finish my ‘tatoes?”

 

The look Peggy gives her is nothing short of _are you serious?_

Nora shovels the last of her potatoes in her mouth, and stands, cheeks bulging as she follows an exasperated Peggy and a highly amused Howard.

When they clear the mess tent _(and once Nora’s swallowed the remainder of her potatoes)_ , Peggy turns to them, to Howard, serious and stoic. “Howard, what would you say if I asked you to fly into enemy airspace tonight?”

Howard’s eyebrow ticks upward. “I’d say you’re darn crazy, but it sounds like fun.”

“Good. Twenty-hundred hours, be ready to go.” Now she turns to Nora, and Nora can’t help but straighten under the gaze of the Agent, feeling the need to _do better_ under such a critical eye. “Captain Rogers is mounting a rescue mission for soldiers captured by Hydra.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice. Let me grab some gear and I’ll be good to go.” The prospect of finally _doing something_ is elating, though she forces herself not to be excited at the prospect of war. War is not a game. A lot would be riding on them.

“Why’s Rogers playing white knight? Ain’t it the army’s job to do these rescue missions?” Howard asks, just as Nora turns on her heel. She’s so eager to collect her gear and ready for her first mission she almost misses Peggy’s answer. _Almost._

“It appears the most recent unit captured, the 107th, included Captain Rogers’ best friend.”

Nora freezes. Heart beating frantically, colour draining from her face. Slowly, she turns, faces Howard and Peggy once more. “Say that again, Peg.”

Peggy’s brow ticks up, and she’s about to question why when she sees the look on Nora’s face. _Dread._ _Please don’t mean him._

“Captain Rogers found out the men captured might include his best friend, a Sergeant Barnes—” It’s all Peggy needs to say, for Nora to swallow the bile threatening to rise in her throat, to straighten her back and put a stoic mask on.

 

“Twenty-one hundred. I’ll meet you at the plane.”

* * *

 

“You don’t need to do this, Nora.” Steve says as he double checks her parachute is secure, and she pushes his hands away, stops him fussing like a mother hen.

“Steve, they pumped me with the same vitamins they did you. And if Bucky’s alive, I’m gonna be the one to drag his sorry butt from that fire.” Nora secures her helmet and goggles on her head, nods at Steve and Peggy, and moves to the copilot’s seat in the cockpit, next to Howard.

“Y’sure you wanna do this, kid?” He asks, looking for all the world as though he were behind the wheel of a Cadillac and not flying through enemy airspace.

“Don’t start on me, Stark.” She’s not in the mood for chit-chat, and Howard, for once, shuts his mouth.

That is, until he hears a lull in the conversation from the back of the plane. Nora’s eyes narrow at the smirk on his face. “Agent Carter, if we’re not in too much of a hurry, I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for a late-night fondue.”

She only has to listen to Steve say the words _do you… fondue?_ And hear Howard’s barely muffled snicker before she throws a punch at his shoulder.

“ _Ow_ , hey, don’t they say anythin’ about dead-arming pilots flying you into enemy airspace?” Howard says indignantly, rubbing his shoulder.

“Maybe, but they didn’t give me a reference point for when the pilot starts actin’ like a dick. Quit teasin’ him, Stark. Let them figure it out themselves.”

“That’s not what you were saying this afternoon, kid—been tested more than you, pal.” He answers Steve’s question about the transponder as Nora rolls her eyes and stands, moving towards the back of the plane.

She’s not made it more than two steps before anti-aircraft fire rattles the plane, Howard swerving to avoid being hit.

“Joseph!” Steve calls, strapping his shield onto his arm and making for the door.

“On your six.” She pulls her goggles down over her eyes, checks her parachute again one last time, _Steve, now’s not the time to be flirting,_ and prepares to follow him out of the cabin door. “Stark!”

“Yeah, kid?”

 

"I'm callin' that whiskey you stashed. Don't think I didn't see it.” And with that, she falls.

* * *

 

“Plan of attack?” They’ve stowed their parachutes and goggles, landed about six miles away from the factory. Neither of them had broken a sweat while running, clearing the distance ten times quicker than the average person. Nora had only fallen behind by a few yards, the lengths of her serum not quite what Steve’s was.

“We passed trucks on the way in, you heard them too?” He says, quietly, and she nods. “I’ll clear the back of the last one. That’s our in. Think you can keep up until I signal?”

She can hear the trucks even now, motoring loudly down the gravel road. “After you, Cap.”

Nora jogs alongside the trucks from the treeline, waits for the _thump thump_ of two bodies hitting the dirt before cutting across to the back of the last truck, hopping up and being pulled in by Steve just as they clear the gates of the facility.

“Nicely done, Captain America.”

“That was the easy part, Sarge.”

* * *

 

It’s a miracle from the Lord, how they’re not spotted as they make their way through facility, what with Steve toting a spangled shield on his back. They stick to the shadows, only engaging when necessary, and Steve only pauses once, in the heart of the facility, picking up one of the glowing blue cartridges left unattended on a workbench. _For Stark,_ he explains, _maybe he can figure out what they’re doing here._

The prison block is easy enough to find, and they end up on a catwalk above it. Steve holds up a hand, fist closed, moving through a series of motions. Signals they’d been taught to know by heart, enough for her to understand the plan. _I’ll clear the top level. You take the second._ Nora holds up her hand, three fingers raised with thumb and forefinger touching. _O.K._

Nora uses the handrail to swing herself down, landing soundlessly on her toes as Steve continues on the catwalk. There’s a grate to the lower level by her foot. _Bingo._ The guard down the other end of the platform is far enough away not to hear the slight groan of metal as she pulls apart the grate, creating just enough of a gap for her to slip through and land silently on the second floor, where Allied soldiers sit in small, circular, cramped cages. The ones nearest look at her in alarm, shooting to their feet, but she hurriedly presses a finger to her lips. _I’m here to save you, idiots, don’t make a sound._

There’s one guard on her level, his back to her as he watches the prisoners down the other end of the block. Nora doesn’t bother with her gun, leaving it strapped to her thigh as she moves, quiet and careful, until she’s right behind him. There’s a _thunk_ and a clatter from above, and before the Hydra guard can turn and look, Nora grabs the sides of his head, and with a sharp twist, his neck snaps and he drops like a ragdoll.

“Clear.” It’s almost a murmur, but with Steve’s enhanced hearing, she knows he’ll hear her as she bends down to grab the set of keys off the soldier’s belt.

“Clear.” He replies in kind from behind her. “Let’s get everyone out.”

It takes some guessing with the keys, and when she’s not sure, Nora just pulls the door, lock and all, open with a sharp tug. The men are weary of her at first, especially as she pries open the solid metal grates as though they were cardboard, but as more soldiers filter out, they pay her little mind.

“I'm looking for a Sergeant James Barnes.” She hears Steve ask as she pries open the last gate.

“There's an isolation ward but no-one's ever come back from it.”

Nora's eyes meet Steve's over the sea of freed soldiers. She nods and pushes her way to his side.

“The treeline's northwest, 80 yards past the gate. Get out fast and give ‘em hell. I'll meet you in the clearing with anyone else I find.” Steve's gaze falls to her for a moment, before he adds, “what she says, goes. She says jump, your feet better be off the ground.”

“Wait--" One of the soldiers steps forward as Steve turns to leave. “You sure you know what you're doin'?”

Steve looks at the soldier. At Nora. Her eyes narrow at the barely hidden mischief in his eyes. “Yeah. I've knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times.”

And with that thrilling statement, he jogs off. Nora snorts, rolling her eyes before she turns to the soldiers. “You heard the Captain. Get out fast, give them hell. Take anything with wheels, tanks, trucks, tricycles, whatever there may be. Any wounded in the trucks, reduce this place to ash, and reconvene at the clearing. Shall we, gentlemen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all i am in a food coma i went to town on a burger and nachos i've got no self restraint. 
> 
> anyway, Howard Stark is my favourite person to write
> 
> Edit: I'm doing some format updating and i forgot to mention: 
> 
> I 100% believe that Steve knew the effect his 'punched hitler 200 times' comment was going to have and said it for the shits and giggles everyone forgets that steven grant rogers is a Certified Little Shit with a big sassy mouth and will fight everyone who deserves it


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought the plan was _get out fast,_ Captain.” Nora says sternly, hands on her hips, her best imitation of Agent Carter.

Nora will admit, she doesn’t much enjoy firefights. Firefights mean war. War means death.

But hanging off the side of a monstrous German tank, using a terribly overpowered sniper-rifle as the Hydra facility burns around them?

Well, she’ll whoop along with the soldiers, and she doesn’t feel she can be blamed.

As the tank trundles into the clearing, Nora raps hard on the side of the tank, signalling the driver, an American with a handlebar moustache and a bowler cap, to come to a stop. She hops down, taking stock of the trucks and tanks and soldiers rolling in. There’s a group standing and celebrating their freedom, and she whistles to capture their attention.

“You lot! If you’re well enough to celebrate, you’re well enough to do inventory. We’ve got a two day walk back to camp, roughly four hundred men, and a lot of wounded. See if anyone of these trucks are supply trucks, distribute what food we’ve got. _Ration_. I know you’ve just come out of a p.o.w. camp, but you’ll all be able to eat your fill back at camp. For now, just enough for energy. Any fuel tanks, any medical equipment. If we’ve got any field medics, get them started on the wounded. Get lookouts, as well. Let’s not get caught unaware. We’ll rest here, not more than two hours.”

“Y’know, I wasn’t sure if I was hallucinating, at first, when a dame dropped from the ceilin’ and pulled metal apart like it were paper, but seein’ you shout orders? You’re real, alright.” Handlebar hops down from the tank, and Nora grins, pulling off her helmet and tossing it aside.

“I didn’t catch your name.” Nora holds a hand out, and he smiles, shaking it vigorously.

“Dugan. This here’s Gabe Jones.” He gestures to the other man climbing out of the tank, and he smiles, before wandering off to jabber in French to another escaped soldier. Nora sighs, climbing up to take a seat on the hull of the tank with a sigh. “Long day?”

“When Agent Carter dragged me from my dumb corner desk in the SSR, I didn’t expect to be crossing into enemy territory to help save a bunch of soldiers.” Nora hums, leaning back on her elbows, eyes closed as she tilts her head up to the dawning sky.

Dugan is quiet, the briefest moment, before he climbs up to sit beside her. “Y’think your Captain buddy will walk out of that fire?”

Nora laughs under her breath, drumming her fingers against the hull. “I think he better, or I might go drag his sorry rear out and I’ll be the one to kill ‘im for bein’ stupid.”

“If he’s really Captain America, he’ll come out.” Dugan says, and her grin ticks up. They sit mostly in silence, only breaking it when one soldier or another comes to tell her of what they’ve compiled. A French soldier, the one Jones had wandered off to talk to, offers her a piece of bread with a bright grin.

Nora checks her watch. Almost time to go. _Where. Is. Steve._

She’s about to march back into the smouldering rubble and pull it apart brick by brick until she finds that big blond idiot, when she hears cheering coming from the direction of the factory. In an instant, she’s up, standing on top of the tank to see over the sea of soldiers.

There’s a blue helmet, a dark haired man. Leaning on each other. Relaxed.

Nora jumps from tank to truck to 4x4, trying to get in close. When she can’t get in any closer, she bounces off the hood of the 4x4, climbing up into the nearest tree and using the branches to her advantage.

_She’ll admit, the dramatic entrance was part of the reason she took to the treetops_.

There’s a circle of soldiers around them, just enough space. Nora grins, and then rearranges her face into something more stern and stoic. Measures up the distance with a critical eye, and with a leap, lands agilely in front of the two men in a crouch. Silence falls over the crowd as she rises, focusing solely on Steve.

“I thought the plan was _get out fast,_ Captain.” Nora says sternly, hands on her hips, her best imitation of Agent Carter. Steve looks suitably admonished.

And that’s when Nora turns her gaze to the man beside him.

She’ll admit her heart skips a beat, seeing him for the first time. He’s looking at her with diamond blue eyes, brighter somehow with the dirt and ash covering his face. The sculpted cheekbones, the sharp jawline. The tired lines. The hollowed cheeks. The dark circles. _James Buchanan Barnes._

“And _you_.” She says, though her voice wavers, ever so slightly. “You weren’t supposed to lose your way. I specifically took measures to ensure you wouldn’t.”

Bucky grins. It’s a crooked little smirk, ticked up at the corner, and he lets go of Steve, digging a hand into his pocket, pulling out something small, and holding it out to her.

Though, like the rest of him, covered in soot and dust, it’s easy to tell. Easy to recognize. The silver compass she’d gifted him.

“I didn’t.” His voice, husky from misuse and teasing in tone, sends a little thrill up her spine, but it’s the look in those diamond blues that get her. A little guarded, a little nervous. _Please don’t be unimpressed with what’s before you._ Her hands fall limply from her hips to her sides, stern look softening.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Bucky.” Her smile is small, though her eyes speak volumes. Radiating relief at his safe return. Affection at his words. He takes a step towards her, and when she doesn’t move away, he comes in closer. Takes her hand in his – _dwarfs_ her hand in his – and tugs her close, wrapping his arms around her. The top of her head just barely reaches his nose, and she bands her arms around his waist, face pressed to his shoulder.

_Safe_.

One of Bucky’s hands slides to the side of her head, gently tilting it up. She’s met once again with those blue, blue eyes, a world of emotion in them as his thumb gently runs over her cheek. His gaze flicks from her eyes to her lips, and he leans in, almost imperceptible, but she notices. Nora drops her head, just a little, eyes lowering to his collar.

Sensing her hesitation, Bucky instead presses his lips to her forehead, gentle, soft and—

“ _You call that a kiss?”_ Dugan’s voice raises above the din, startling both of them. Followed by laughter. Lots of it. Loud, hollers and hoots.

Nora could smack herself. _How had she forgotten about the four-hundred-something soldiers watching this little scene like they were at the pictures?_

“Right!” Nora pulls away and shouts, cheeks pink and a stern look on her face. “If you’re well enough to joke, you’re well enough to walk! Get drivers in those trucks, everyone pack up!”

She pauses, turning back to Bucky, who’s looking a little mystified by the way the men jump to her orders. She smiles at him. Turns. Shouts loudly, “Let’s go home!”

The cheers are enough to make her cover her ears with a laugh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall i posted this while i was at this cute little french cafe for lunch at work and theres romantic french songs playing its really setting the tone for this chapter


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She'd thrown up by the side of Howard's battered plane, and then crawled inside, digging into his hidden stash and drowning out the taste with whiskey.

She's avoiding... well, _everyone_. Nora doesn't feel much like socialising, celebrating the victory.

Because after all the adrenaline, all the excitement and victory had worn off, Nora had realised what she'd done.

_The crack of a neck snapping between her hands. The squelch of her switchblade sliding up between the ribs, just like she'd been taught. Men falling to her bullets and grenades._

She'd thrown up by the side of Howard's battered plane, and then crawled inside, digging into his hidden stash and drowning out the taste with whiskey.

They weren't good people. They'd captured almost five hundred Allied soldiers, using them as a labour force until they collapsed of exhaustion. And this was only the one facility they knew of. Didn't stop Nora from feeling gut-roiling guilt, taking off George's rosary from where it hangs around her neck, murmuring her Hail Marys and her Our Fathers. One hand worrying the beads between red stained fingertips. The other wrapped around the neck of a whiskey bottle.

* * *

“Stark's plane.”

 

Bucky Barnes turns, confused by the sudden proclamation. It had evidently come from the small Englishwoman Steve was so smitten with, where she stands just behind him. Her lips tilt up in a soft quirk, and she nods at the dirt strip, leading to the silver bird he'd seen on their way in.

“If, hypothetically, you were looking for a certain Sergeant.” The Agent raises a brow, amused. “Brunette. Five foot seven inches. Loud, insubordinate mouth. Wouldn't want to be on the business end of her right hook.”

Bucky chuckles, hands in his pockets. The left closed around the silver compass he'd managed to hide when he'd been captured. “I don't know what you're talking about, Agent.”

“I saw someone of that description headed towards the plane. If you were, hypothetically, seeking someone like that out.” Agent Carter pushes off the crates she'd been leaning against, turning to walk away when Bucky calls out to her.

“ _Hypothetically,_ huh?”

“Hypothetically.” She agrees over her shoulder.

He deliberates a small moment. Looks up at the grey sky. The path the Agent had nodded at. Pulls his hands out of his pockets and jogs to beat the thundering clouds to the plane.

* * *

 

Bucky's barely even puffed as he slows to a walk, the silver plated plane parked at the end of the permanently muddied field. The hatch isn't closed all the way, open just enough that he can hear the murmured words from inside.

 

_“...Hail Mary, mother of God. Pray for us... sinners, now and at the hour of our death.”_

 

The hesitation over the word _sinners_ is enough for Bucky to know why she'd run off to be alone. He'd felt the same guilt, the first day in combat. The sick to your stomach feeling. The knowledge that one small movement, a twitch of a finger against a trigger, had wiped one's existence from this earth.

And she and Steve had taken apart a whole facility brick by crumbling brick to save him.

The prayers lapse into silence, and he knocks on the side of the plane, announcing his presence.

“Plane’s occupied, Howard, find somewhere else to play doctor with your nurse, because I'm not leaving.” Nora calls dryly. Bucky pushes open the hatch, trying to drum up the confidence, the charm he'd had before he became a lab rat.

“Sorry to disappoint, doll, but it's just me.” She's laying across the three seats up against the side of the plane, brown curls splayed around her head and spilling over the edge of seat, a dark halo. One hand hangs down, slim fingers wrapped around the neck of an empty whiskey bottle. The other rests on her stomach, navy glass beads on a sterling chain wrapped around her hand.

Steve's drawings were beautiful, but they'd not done justice to the beautiful woman before him. His breath had been all but stolen when she'd launched herself from that tree and landed in front of him and Steve, admonishing them both with harsh words, though her eyes spoke of relief for their safety.

Those eyes now turn to him, startled, and she sits up quickly, kicking the empty bottle under the seat. “Bucky.”

And there it was. That voice, the voice he hadn't been able to imagine reading her letters, now saying his name.

“S'this a private party or y'gonna make me walk out in the rain?” He asks, and she tilts her head slightly, a silent sign of welcome. He shuts the door behind him, to stop the wind and rain flooding into the cabin as the storm picks up. Nora's oddly quiet as she unwraps the rosary from her wrist, slipping it over head and tucking it under her collar. There's a stilted, awkward air he doesn't like, unfamiliarity. Nora senses it too, he can tell by the way she pushes her hair back off her face, wringing her fingers as he takes a seat on the opposite side of the plane.

Finally, she speaks. “Shouldn't you be in the infirmary?”

He should, but he wasn't. Couldn't be around another doctor just yet. “I, uh... I think I've had my fill of being poked and prodded for a while.”

“Oh.” They lapse into silence again, before she huffs out a laugh. “Sorry. I just... I never thought we'd meet. I'm overthinking it so much I can't think of a single thing to say.”

And he laughs too, relaxing a little in his seat. “Neither can I. About as smooth as a bucket of bolts, huh?”

“That's one way to put it.” She agrees, running a hand through her hair, and Bucky's taken by her smile. “Letters are one thing...”

“I liked your letters.” Bucky grins, though it falls a second later. “ _Aw,_ man.”

“What is it?” Nora asks, worried.

“I just realised they probably sent my stuff back to my ma and my sisters. All your letters too.” This seems to genuinely upset him, and Nora hides a smile.

“Well, I guess you'll just have to settle for the real thing, huh?” She teases, tucking a leg under her. “You haven't gone looking for your stuff yet?”

“What gave it away?” He asks, and her eyebrow cocks up, amused.

“Your use of the word _probably_. That,” She adds, “and the fact you're still covered in burnt Nazi facility.”

He rubs a thumb over his cheek, shrugging sheepishly when it comes away covered in dirt. Nora shakes her head and stands, rummaging through one of the storage compartments, coming up with a clean rag and a canteen. “If you won't go to the infirmary, and won't go look for your things to clean up, will you at least let me--"

“Yes.” The answer's out embarrassingly quick, and Bucky ducks his head. _Dammit_. He can almost hear Steve mocking him. _You used to be good at this, Buck._ “I trust you.”

“You might regret that.” She teases, eyes glittering. They were more green in this lighting, though he can see the rings of gold and brown as she comes closer, kneeling on the seat next to him. She wets the rag with water from the canteen, puts one hand on the side of his face, and with gentle movements, begins to clear the dirt and soot from his face.

He lets loose a soft sigh, eyes fluttering closed at her gentle touch, only tensing once, when she brushes over a cut on his hairline. Nora forces herself to focus on cleaning him up, but she can’t help the way her gaze lingers as the dirt and blood is cleared away. His lashes brush against his cheeks, fluttering lightly with each touch. Full pink lips that part when the cloth, her fingertips, brush over them. The way his Adam’s apple bobs when she sweeps the cloth over his jaw and neck.

Finally, _regrettably_ , Nora pulls the cloth away, clearing her throat and pressing her lips together, trying not to stare. Now clean, he looks more like the man in the photograph Steve had shown her, as his eyelids flutter open, and he smiles, a crooked little grin that has her smiling in response.

“Thank you, Nora Rose.” It’s almost inaudible, beyond the soothing sound of rain against the metal of the plane, the small cabin feeling even smaller, _cosier_ , with Bucky so close.

“You’re wel-… welcome.” Nora falters on the word, Bucky’s hand, now on hers, a distracting touch. Calloused, warm, rough against her palm. Sun-darkened, making her olive skin pale against his. His lips quirk, thumb running over the back of her palm, and his eyes meet hers.

“You and Steve saved me, Nora. I can’t thank you enough.” His voice is quiet, low, warm, and the admiration, the affection in his eyes is… overwhelming. “You’ve… since that first letter, you were, _are_ , one of the three most important lights in my life. My family. Steve. _You._ ”

_Overwhelming. Overwhelming,_ the way he looks at her. The way his thumb strokes over her hand. The slight tilt of his head, the way his eyes drop down to her lips.

Suddenly, the cabin has turned from cosy to claustrophobic. Nora doesn’t know why the thought of his lips on hers makes her nervous. Excited. _But not yet._ Not yet.

 

Nora pulls her hand from his, almost trips over her own feet in her rush to stand, and bolts for the cabin door, rushing out into the rain without another word.

* * *

 

Nora will shamefully admit to hiding out with Peggy in the Colonel's tent, later, until Howard rounds the both of them up to take them back to London. Nora all but bolts to the plane, immediately wrapping herself in one of the luxury blankets Howard keeps in there and sleeping across three seats on the way back.

 

Once back in London, she heads straight for her small apartment, showers, and falls into bed for near sixteen hours straight, deliberately not thinking about the look on Bucky's face when she'd run from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure I had 13 and a half years (half being the semester I went to university before dropping out) of Catholic Schooling, yall bet I know these prayers word for word. 
> 
> I think Nora's as religious as it was normalised back then, but not so much a bible basher, more of a casual worshipper for what it meant to her brothers. Her way of connecting to them kinda deal.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“The hell you think you're doin', punk?”_
> 
>  
> 
> “Playing cupid, now shut up and smile ‘cause here she— _Nora_ , you look beautiful.”

“Nora, what on earth are you doing?”

Nora looks up at Peggy, from where she's hanging upside down on her bed, braided hair brushing the floor as she holds her book out in front of her. She waves it at Peggy, deadpan. “I'm reading.”

“Upside down?”

“It’s comfortable.” Nora replies defensively, though she marks her place in her book and lets it tumble to the floor, pulling herself up slowly so as to avoid head rush as she rolls onto her front. Her eyebrows raise as she notices Peggy's red dress, finger-waved hair. “Headed out?”

“In a moment. I’m just waiting on someone.” Nora's response is a series of blinks, and Peggy huffs, striding to the desk and putting her bag down. “ _You_ , ninny. Up you get, where's that blue dress you showed me?”

Nora groans, flopping onto her back and pulling her pillow to her chest. “But I don't wanna go to... where _are_ we going?”

“The Seven Bells. I need to deliver a message to Captain Rogers, and _you_ need to stop avoiding Sergeant Barnes.” Peggy's fixed her with that no-nonsense tone, and Nora holds her pillow tighter.

“I'm not avoiding him!” _Liar liar pants on fire_.

“You are so.” Peggy exclaims, pulling out a blue dress from Nora's closet and hanging it on the edge of the partition by her bed. “Or was that not you who came running into the Colonel's tent in the middle of a thunderstorm, begging for asylum because you _made a mess and ran away from... someone_.”

Nora fixes Peggy with a glare at what she guesses is an attempt at mimicking her. Peggy sighs, taking a seat at the end of Nora's bed. “I fail to see the issue, Nora, the man is _overflowing_ with affection for you, and you him.”

Nora puts her pillow over her face, as though that would stop Peggy's questioning.

The pillow is snatched from her grip and launched across the room. “Stop being so childish, you are a grown woman, and there is a grown man out there practically on his knees, begging for your attention.”

“Peg, we swapped a handful of letters!” Nora sits up abruptly, twisting on the bed to face Peggy. “A handful. What if he's nothing like I imagined? What if I'm nothing like he imagined?”

Peggy stares at her. Her lips twitch.

She laughs.

Nora groans, rolls back onto her front and presses her face into the blankets, words muffled. “If you're gonna laugh and not tell me why, you can leave.”

 

“I'll tell you when you're older. Now get up, if you’re not up and in that dress in ten minutes, I'll put it on you myself.”

* * *

 

“Whiskey. Up to the top.” Nora leans against the bar, three men having cleared a path for her once seeing her in her navy dress. Its not much, a simple silk wrap dress, her one luxury, but with her hair worn down, pinned back behind one ear and styled to perfection by Peggy, and with her red lips, Nora was a showstopper.

Thankfully, with all eyes on Peggy's red ensemble, the pub had hardly paid mind to Nora, and she accepts and pays for her whiskey with a small smile, tucking her gloves into her purse and turning to find a seat at the crowded pub.

* * *

 

He'd noticed her as soon as she walked in. His eyes had travelled from head to toe, committing each line and curve to mind.

How could he not notice his shining light the minute she stepped into a room?

Bucky'd lost sight of her in the brief moment he was speaking with Steve and the Agent. Asking the Agent to dance in the hopes it would prompt Steve into asking her himself. But Carter had brushed him off and Steve had stood there with a dumb smile, and so Bucky rolled his eyes, played it off.

When he finally locates her again, she's sitting at the table Steve had only recently vacated, smiling and laughing with Steve's new specialist team. _I should go over there. I should...  say hi. Tell her she's beautiful. I used to be good at this._

“So, what about her?” He asks Steve instead, nodding in Nora's direction as he signals for a refill of his glass. Steve grins, swirling his own glass. “She gonna be on your team?”

“Wouldn't dream of leaving her behind.” Steve drains his glass, places it on the bartop for a refill, and eyes Bucky out of the corner of his eye. “So you're still not gonna tell me what happened when you two disappeared in Azzano, huh?”

Bucky laughs humorlessly, shrugging. “What's to tell? I told her she's a light in my life and she bolted. I'm just... respectin' her wishes and leavin’ her alone.”

Steve cocks a brow, looking at Bucky hard for a moment, before his gaze lands somewhere behind Bucky. He doesn't have to turn to know who the punk’s eyes had landed on. “You used to be better at this.”

“Yeah, well, I ain't cared about any of those girls before.”

Steve's gaze narrows, a sly smirk growing on his face, and before Bucky can stop him, he's calling out and waving. “ _Nora!”_

Bucky chokes on his drink. “ _The hell you think you're doin', punk?”_

“Playing cupid, now shut up and smile ‘cause here she—Nora, you look beautiful.” Bucky doesn't dare turn around, but he can smell her perfume. Something light, floral.

 “Thanks, Steve. You clean up nice. Every girl's crazy about a man in a uniform.” She teases, winking conspiratorially, and Steve grins, though the tips of his ears go red. Instead he stands, and Bucky just barely refrains from rolling his eyes at Steve's _aw shucks_ tone. It was a tone of voice that had gotten them out of trouble aplenty as kids.

“Where are my manners? Your seat, Ms Joseph.”

“Aw, you're being a real gentleman, Mr Rogers, so _sweet_ —whaddoya want?” Bucky tries to hide his snort, but the way he sees her red lips twitch out of the corner of his eye shows he wasn't very successful. Steve laughs good naturedly, shrugging.

“Phillips has me putting together a team to take down Hydra. I want you on it.” Steve leans over, grabs his glass from the counter and raises it to her in a toast. “And that's non-negotiable.”

The sass and confidence in her posture drops, and now Bucky looks at her, the way she stares at Steve, shocked and disbelieving. “You want... me? Out there with you?”

It seems ridiculous to Bucky that she's even questioning it and without thinking, he says so. “Why wouldn't he? You're amazing.”

 

Her head whips around, startled. There is genuine disbelief and confusion in her eyes. Nora had thought maybe the rescue mission would have been all there was, before Phillips put her back behind a desk and cuffed her to it. The idea that she could be doing _more_ to help, out on the front...

“Not taking _no_ for an answer, Joseph.” Steve reminds her, and she turns back to him, smile growing.

“I’m in.” Her smile is bright and wide, and Steve's own is warm as he tips back the rest of his glass, placing it on the bar.

“Good. I'll let Howard know to prepare for one more.” And with that, Steve walks off, leaving Bucky and Nora alone.

 

“Congratulations." Bucky offers with a smile, draining his glass and making to stand. “I should...”

“Wait.” Nora stops him before he can leave, a hand on his arm. She seems to be searching for the words to say before she flags down the barman, signalling for a refill on both glasses and smiling up at Bucky. “Lady just bought you a drink, you gonna leave her on her own?”

Bucky blinks at her. Laughs quietly, shakes his head, and sits back down. “Thank you, Nora.”

“You’re welcome, Bucky.” She replies, mocking his formality and taking a sip of her whiskey. He smiles, looking down at his glass, holding it, but not bringing it to his lips. “What’s wrong?”

He looks up at her, the way her red lips are turned down in a worried frown, and he raises a shoulder in a half shrug before sighing. _Time to man up, Barnes._ “I just… I wanted to apologise. If I was bein’ too forward, on the plane. You’d been drinking and I was—I’m sorry.”

Nora looks at him in surprise, before her frown morphs into a soft smile. Her free hand finds his, and she squeezes it, gently. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for. _I’m_ sorry for running off. And besides,” she adds, hand leaving his in favour of her glass. “I wasn’t drunk.”

Bucky raises a brow. “So that empty bottle was my imagination?”

“Nope.” Her lips pop on the _P,_ and her laugh is a little dry. “ _But,_ I wasn’t even slightly fuzzy. It takes exactly… hmm… five bottles of straight, pure, hard liquor to get me ossified, and even then, the limit is two hours before my head clears. It was the first thing I tested, after they pumped me full’a Vitamin Freedom.”

The mystified look on his face makes her laugh.

“Vitamin Freedom, huh?” He asks, turning a little more toward her on his stool, trying not to look overjoyed when she does the same. “Same as they gave Steve?”

“Less.” It’s all she’s going to say, at least while they’re in public. He seems to understand. _Loose lips sink ships._ She tactfully changes the subject. “You’re looking… clean.”

It’s a cheeky dig at the last time they were together ( _alone in a small plane cabin, while a thunderstorm and war raged on around them_ ), and Bucky straightens in his chair, fixing into place the rogueish smirk that had caught the attention of many a girl in Brooklyn. “And you’re lookin’ devastatingly beautiful.”

“What, this ol’ thing?” Nora brushes an imaginary piece of lint off her shoulder, smooths out the skirt over her knees. “Just something I had in my closet.”

The four man band have struck up a slow song, soft and sweet, and Bucky won’t let the opportunity go to waste. He digs a hand into his pocket, pulling out the silver compass she’d gifted him. Cleaned up and shining in the dim lights, Bucky places it on the bartop, smirk melting into something softer at Nora’s curious look. He opens it, and Nora’s eyes instantly lock onto the paper taped to the inside of the compass. It’s a little tattered and dirty, folded into a small square, and Bucky now pulls it off, unfolding it and holding it out to Nora before pocketing the compass.

“I believe this belongs to you, Ms Joseph.”

_The dance card._ She’d almost forgotten about it completely, and now she lets loose a surprised laugh. He’d written _Sgt James B Barnes_ in every box. By the time she looks up, Bucky’s standing, a hand out, waiting and ready.

She leaves the card with her purse and their drinks, taking his hand as he pulls her gently out of her chair and into his arms. His free hand lands on the small of her back, and hers wrapped around his neck as the band strikes up Frankie Carle’s _One More Tomorrow._ Nora’s head rests on Bucky’s shoulder, and he presses their joined hands to his heart as they move in time with the music.

“I almost never thought we’d get this dance.” Nora hums, absently calling the lyrics of the song to mind.

_One more tomorrow; to see heaven in your eyes, to have your hand cling to mine and wander through paradise…_

“It was the thought of it that kept me goin’.” Bucky murmurs, hand squeezing hers gently as the music wraps them in their own world. “I couldn’t let you down.”

“You could never.” She’s serious, too, raising her head from his shoulder, and he’s smiling down at her, lips pressing to her forehead as the song changes—Billie Holliday. _Easy Living._ Bucky takes advantage of the peppier song, twirling Nora, skirt flowing out around her legs in a swirl of deep ocean blue, dipping her and grinning at her laugh. A musical sound that fills him with warmth.

The song slows to an end, and Nora reluctantly pulls away, though her smile stays in place. Bucky doesn’t let go of her hand, and she marvels at the feel of it as they make their way back to their seats. His hand is warm, engulfs hers, strong and firm. She doesn’t want him to let go, at least, not for the rest of the night.

“Another drink, Ms Joseph?” He asks, and though Nora does want another, she checks her watch and sighs.

“I should probably head back. It’s a few blocks back to my place and the price for a cab is ridiculous.” With greatest dismay, she pulls her hand away to slip her gloves back on, holding onto her purse. She doesn’t move, though her eyes dart to the door. Bucky nods, and then grabs his coat from the seat beside his, holding out an arm.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Yes—please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok fuck i feel like i cut it off in a weird place but I didn't know where else too and I haven't finished the second part yet and I didn't want to post it as one long chapter. 
> 
> I also took creative liberty with when the songs were released so you know what fite me


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I… may have taken us around the block a few times because I… don’t want the night to end.”

“You said your stuff had been sent back to your mom and your sisters. How many sisters?” Bucky’s draped his coat over her shoulders as they stroll alongside each other on the quiet London streets. His hands are in his pockets, but he never lets the distance between them become wider than an inch.

“Three. Rebecca, Daisy, Loulou.” Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “Girls everywhere. You had brothers?”

“Mhm.” There’s a bittersweet smile, and Bucky takes her hand. “Four. George, David, Michael and Matthew. They raised me. _Takes a village_ _to be raised by wolves_?”

“Aren’t those two separate sayings?” Bucky asks, and Nora grins, free hand absently finding the Rosary that hangs around her neck.

“Not in my case. Took all four of those wolves to raise me. You know, this one time, they almost got me arrested?”

 

* * *

 

“—and then Steve says, _I had him on the ropes._ Like he wasn’t bleeding and throwing punches that weren’t even ruffling the guy’s hair!” Bucky rolls his eyes, but he grins at the delighted laugh Nora gives, head thrown back, dark curls cascading behind her.

“It explains how he was at basic. He’d get into fights every day, no mind that he was quarter a size of these other guys.” Their hands swing between them, still entwined, and Nora uses it to keep him close. “He was the best guy there. It was bearable, bunking with the others, all because of Steve.”

“Oh, he’s not the angel he makes himself out to be. Let me tell you about the time he pulled a fast one on the Marino twins down the block…”

 

* * *

 

“I know how you felt.”

“Hmm?” Nora lifts her eyes from the pavement, turning her gaze to Bucky. He's looking at the cloudy sky above, avoiding her gaze.

“I didn't mean to intrude but... you were praying, when I found you in Italy.” There's a distant rumble of thunder, far enough for them not to worry, close enough to know they wouldn't make it to daybreak without rain. Bucky still hasn't looked at her, voice quiet. “I assumed... The guilt.”

The sound of heels on cobblestone falter ever so slightly. _Oh._

“It's... I...” Nora's free hand flies to the rosary, visible with the cut of the dress. “I knew that... I knew that war involved death. I knew I would be the cause of it. I know it's... a means to an end, that killing those men saved ours.”

A pause.

“Saved you.”

Bucky huffs a laugh, a dry, humourless thing. “But they're still human. We've still killed other humans.”

Nora shifts her hand, fingers entertwined with his, gloved thumb stroking his. He squeezes her hand gently in return.

“I'm sorry I had to kill them. I'm sorry I had to kill anyone. I'm not sorry I saved you.”

His head drops, but she can see the corner of his lips lifting as he squeezes her hand again.

 

* * *

 

“— _God,_ he just annoyed me! He made me climb up with my bare hands, and there he was, _sunbathing!_ So I tossed him on the ground, and he lay there in the dirt lookin' offended 'cause I sat in his chair.” Bucky laughs at the frustration on Nora’s face, the way she gestures with her hands when she talks, (and he doesn’t mind his hand being tugged along with her wild waving).

“I don’t blame you, I’d have been frustrated too— _Hang on,_ we passed that building five minutes ago.” Bucky gestures at the storefront with their joined hands, and Nora’s suddenly silent, sheepish. “Are you lost?”

Nora stops, looking slightly embarrassed as she gazes off somewhere over his left shoulder. “I… may have taken us around the block a few times because I… don’t want the night to end.”

Bucky stops, pulling her to a gentle stop too. There’s the beginnings of a charming, _teasing_ smirk on his face, though he bites his lower lip, looks to the sky a moment before pulling Nora closer and wrapping his arms around her. “That is... that's ador—I find that really flattering, that you're willing to subject yourself to this cold just to spend more time together.”

His breath ruffles her hair, and Nora laughs softly against his chest, relaxing into his warm embrace. “Sorry.”

“S'okay.” His hands are absently rubbing up and down her arms, where she's tucked them in the too-long sleeves of the borrowed coat, trying to stimulate warmth as they stand there on a quiet London street, neither wanting to move. “Maybe we should find somewhere out of the cold. I’m sure there's a pub open somewhere.”

“I'd--" _Like that,_ she wants to finish her sentence, but the thought of being in crowds of other people doesn't appeal to her. As much as she'd like to keep wandering the streets with him alone, she knows that she should call it a night. _Be a proper lady for once, Noor,_ David's teasing voice in her head. “—We should probably turn in. I’m sure Steve and Howard will be ready to put us through our paces tomorrow.”

“You're right.” To his credit, Bucky doesn't turn on her for not agreeing to his suggestion, instead takes her hand again and pulls her close to his side to keep her warm. Smiles down, gentle, teasing. She gets a glimpse of the man Steve had described, suave and with the ability to make a girl melt with his smile, but more genuine. Gentle. Adoring. “So, you gonna actually show me which building's yours so I can be a good date and walk you home?”

 

* * *

 

They've walked around the block and taken the left Nora'd been studiously avoiding, now on the stoop of Emerald Court. Bucky whistles at the sight of the extravagant building, a pristine foyer and napping concierge visible through the glass doors.

And yet, Nora makes no reach for the buzzer to startle the concierge awake to unlock the door for her.

“Swanky.” Bucky comments, and he hasn't yet let go of her hand. “The SSR really went all out.”

“S'not an SSR building.” Nora shrugs, rolling her eyes. “Howard wanted me close by to test whatever kooky creation he cooks up in his lab, so he got his butler to set me up here.”

Bucky looks stunned at the tale of generosity. Nora grins. The thunder rumbles a little closer, yet neither of them make a move towards the door. Bucky's expression softens into something more gentle, and Nora finds herself immobile under his gaze. “I know I said I'd walk you home like a good date, but I'm not ready for this night to end. Talking with you...”

His free hand finds hers, and he holds them both tight, a genuine smile on his face. “... I loved the letters, but I think I like talking with you more.”

 

* * *

 

“If you don't mind me asking...” Nora's got his hand in hers, her gloves tucked into her purse, tracing a bare fingertip over the lines of his palm as she hums in response. “... the Rosary. It's... It's beautiful, but it looks like it means more to you than just a piece of jewellery.”

Her fingers still over his hand, and she wills herself to push back the memory of that day. After a moment, she continues her absent touch, gaze to the starless sky as they sit there on the stairs of her building, not one inch of space between them as they're pressed together against the rapidly cooling night.

“It was George's. Before he left, he told me to keep it safe. It was our father's, before that.” His fingers curl, catching hers, and she can feel his gaze on her. Absently, she wonders why it is that he allows her to touch him so much, to touch him so. And later, she'll realise it's the first gentle touch he would have received since leaving for the war. “ _Noor,_ he said. _If you lose or break this, I swear on Mom's grave, I will haunt you until your dying breath and beyond.”_

They share a small laugh, sad, quiet, and Bucky holds her hand tight, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her fingertips.

 

* * *

 

“I didn't enlist.” Bucky's voice is quiet, and it makes Nora raise her head from his shoulder and look at him, questioning. His thumb strokes over hers, gentle, repetitive. “I was drafted. Steve... doesn't know.”

“What?” Nora sits up properly, looking at him in surprise, though she doesn't take her hand from his. He almost looks ashamed by the quiet admission, and Nora corrects her shock, curious concern replacing it. “Why?”

He turns to her, and his thumb stills, free hand running through his hair absently. “Steve wanted to enlist. I tried talking him out of it a few times. But he was determined. So I went with him—the first time, at least—and he was 4F.” A small, humourless laugh. “Then my number was up. It's stupid, but I didn't want to look ungrateful to him. He wanted to be out there, winning the war, and he couldn't. And I was handed the chance on a silver platter.”

“So you told him you enlisted.” Nora murmurs.

“So I told him I enlisted.” He hums, breath a white puff of fog in the cold London air. Nora resettles her head on his shoulder, both hands wrapped around his.

“You should tell him.” She suggests quietly, eyes trained on the sprinkling drops visible in the glow of the street lamp.

“He'll just feel guilty and will come up with a million excuses to get me off his team, if that's what he thinks I want.” He shakes his head, fingers tightening around hers briefly. “Besides... This time, I'll have both of you by my side. It won't be so bad.”

 

* * *

 

The mist has turned into a steady drizzle, and yet neither Nora nor Bucky have made to leave the just barely sheltered doorway, content to sit in silence in the open air. A glance at her watch tells Nora it’s well past 3.00am, and even as she fights a yawn, head on Bucky’s shoulder, she doesn’t make to move.

Her third attempt at hiding her yawn, however, catches Bucky’s eye, and he huffs a quiet laugh, lips pressing to the top of her head. “C’mon, doll. Time for you to head up to bed.”

He stands, pulling her to a stand too, despite her pout of protest. Reluctantly, Nora slips his coat off her shoulders and hands it back. Bucky puts it on, turns up the collar against the steadily increasing rain.

“Five more minutes?” Nora asks uselessly, a little smile on her lips. The step she’s standing on puts her at eye-level with him, and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes light at the words, before he chuckles and shakes his head, taking her hands.

“You’re fallin’ asleep where you stand, sweetheart.” Though Bucky wants to kiss away the lingering pout, he doesn’t dare. After the last misguided, stupid attempt at kissing her, Bucky’d decided he’d wait. Until she wanted to. Until she moved.

“But there are no cabs around.” She attempts to reason, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“I’ll walk.”

“But it’s rainin’.”

“Little water never hurt nobody.”

“…But I don’t want you to go.”

The words are past his lips before he can stop them.

“I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok sorry it took so long to pop this chapter out but i actually have a few written 
> 
> i've learnt my lesson before about posting as i write, if I post exactly as much as I've written I lose steam. SO I have like another chapter written and I've started the next but I'm not gonna post until I've got a bit more. 
> 
> MCU Canon Bucky was [oldest of four and a champion boxer before he was drafted.](http://marvelcinematicuniverse.wikia.com/wiki/Winter_Soldier#Early_Life) Although that page incorrectly lists him as having enlisted but [ there've been a few of these posts](http://paigetsound.tumblr.com/post/105042993185) I've seen that strongly suggest otherwise so thats where I'm going with this. 
> 
> THIS SHIT ALREADY BE UP TO 65 PAGES HOW DID I GET HERE.
> 
> Also maybe a new modern au canon divergence coming soon because [ Goldblumesque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldblumesque/pseuds/goldblumesque) out here fuckin enabling me. Stay tuned


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their conversations had flowed throughout the night, words and stories and secrets spilling forth as though they’d known each other for years.

The concierge barely opened his eyes enough to unlock the door, let alone notice the pair slipping into quietly into the elevator to the third floor, hand in hand.

Apartment 3A is one of the smaller apartments in the building, despite Howard’s attempts at persuading Nora to move into the penthouse two floors above. Upon entering, the bathroom is immediately to the left, the closet Peggy had rifled through by the door. Nora’s bed is just barely hidden by printed silk screen partitions, a desk against the wall opposite. ( _Bucky notices, as he glances over it later, it’s covered in letters. His letters._ ) Two windows, a small kitchen. It’s neat and clean, the only signs of being lived in the letters that scatter the desk.

“Coffee or tea?” Nora asks as she places her purse and gloves on the desk, moving straight to the kitchen. Bucky hangs his coat on the rack by the door, following her and leaning against the counter as she fills the kettle and sets it on the lit stove, practiced movements hinting at the many times she’d done this, whether in a past life, in this life here. Alone. Tossed aside and useless. _A failed experiment._

“Tea. Coffee’ll just keep me up more.” Bucky crosses his arms, a subconscious movement.  It’s quiet and calm, save for the sound of rain against the windows.

“Peppermint okay?”

“S’perfect.”

The kettle left to boil, she indicates for him to sit, the chair at the desk. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Nora slips into the bathroom, shutting the door gently, switching on the light by the mirror and leaning against the basin for a few short moments. Suddenly overwhelmed. The same way she’d been overwhelmed on the plane.

When she’d been left without her family, without her home, washed up on the side of a river, she’d never have imagined something like this. A war. A friend. A… _whatever_ she and Bucky were. Their conversations had flowed throughout the night, words and stories and secrets spilling forth as though they’d known each other for years.

She hadn’t wanted it to end.

The overwhelming feeling settles into something that warms her. Steadies her hands and sets her nerves alight all at once. The whistle of the kettle sounds distantly, and when Nora emerges, face free of makeup and hair braided back, Bucky’s already poured the tea. He greets her with a smile, hands her the mug.

“Sure you don’t mind me waitin’ out the rain with you?” Bucky asks, turning the chair away from the desk to sit. Nora sheepishly moves the panel from the foot of her bed, sitting on the end with her legs crossed, cradling her mug as the scent of peppermint fills her lungs.

“Of course I don’t mind. I can’t let you walk home in the rain.” Nora grins, sipping from her mug and sighing at the warmth that spreads through her. “My brothers may have been wolves, but they did raise me with some manners.”

Bucky smiles into his mug, blue eyes on her. After a moment, he speaks quietly. “What’s your favourite memory of them?”

* * *

 “… And then, Michael says, _I’m sorry, my sister’s not well—she thinks the horse is a king._ And so I’ve gotta curtsey to the policeman’s horse and call it _your highness_ so that the officer’s paying attention to me and not the fact that George and Matthew are trying to hide a nearly naked and completely drunk David in a dumpster.”

“You are an excellent sister.” Bucky laughs, empty mug now on the desk. Dawn is starting to break outside, the barest flashes of a sunrise between grey clouds sliding through the curtained windows. Nora shakes her head, pushing back the dark strands that have fallen out of her braid.

“It wasn’t as good a story as yours. I still can’t believe Steve managed to get you two out of being arrested by pretending to have an asthma attack.” Nora’s laugh ends on a yawn, and the amused grin Bucky had worn melts into something softer as he stands.

“I should go.”

“What? Why?” Nora’s up in an instant, looking up at him. She’d taken off her heels sometime ago, and her head tilts back a little as she frowns at him. “It’s still early.”

“It’s sunrise, doll.” Bucky deadpans, nodding to the window with a crooked grin. “I’ve kept you up all night. You should sleep, Nora.”

“I— _fine._ ” Nora drags her feet petulantly on the carpet the whole four foot walk to the door. Bucky shakes his head in amusement, throwing his coat over his arm. Nora’s hand lingers on the doorknob, but she doesn’t turn it. Not yet. “I had… a great time tonight, Bucky. Really great.”

Bucky hums in agreement, nodding. “I did too. Best date I ever had. Made it worth going through what I did, if it lead to this.”

“I wish you hadn’t.”

Her quiet words freeze Bucky in place. She’s looking at the tags that sit on his collar, the ones that should’ve been sent to his mother with his belongings, a folded flag and a condolence letter. “I wish you hadn’t gone through what you did. I wish we’d realised you were missing sooner. I wish we’d found you sooner.”

“Nora…”  There’s guilt in her gaze, but something more, as she lifts her incredible eyes to meet his.

“I hope I’m not being too presumptuous by sayin’ I’m never letting you out of my sight when we get to the front.” Bucky stills, heart racing as Nora lifts her free hand, boldly carding her fingers through his hair.

“S’not… S’not presumptuous at all, sweetheart.” His hand lands gently on hers where it rests against the doorknob. The hand in his hair slides, rests against the side of his face. She’s nervous, can tell so by the slight tremble of her palm against his cheek. A quiet moment passes, the air almost thick with a sort of emotion that makes pulses race and breath quicken. He wants to move. Wants to press her close and wrap around her, never let her go.

But he doesn’t want to scare her away.

With a heavy exhale that sounds like shattering glass in the silence, Nora pushes up onto her toes, and then her lips are on his.

A sharp, exhilarating feeling sets Bucky’s nerves alight, and his coat hits the ground without a sound as both arms wrap around Nora, bringing her as close as he can. All those nights he’d lay under the stars, the sound of war lulling him to sleep, he’d dreamed of holding her like this. This strange and incredible woman who had sent letters to a complete stranger because she thought he needed another friend, who made him feel human where war left him a monster.

None of it compared to having Nora here, real, in his arms, making a soft sound as he deepens the kiss, holds her so close, as though wanting to make her a part of him. She’s extremely responsive under his lips, arms wrapped around his neck, fingertips skating through his hair, one hand sliding down the side of his neck and making him shiver.

Eventually, they part for breath, reluctantly, and Bucky rests his forehead against hers, eyes shut. After a moment, they flutter open, and he presses a soft kiss to her lips. She smiles, chasing his lips with a little laugh, _a giggle,_ a sound she’s never made before in her life. Exhilarated. _Happy._ Adoring.

“So, will you stay a little longer?” Nora asks, thumb stroking lightly over his jaw. Bucky pretends to think over it for a second, before laughing, arms tightening around her waist, lifting her so her toes barely brush against the carpet. She makes a little sound of surprise, delighted.

Bucky brushes his lips against hers again, and again, little, teasing kisses that have her following him for more. When he speaks, his voice is low, flirty, soft. _Adoring._

 

“I think I can be convinced.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY!
> 
> I had so much trouble trying to describe Nora's apartment I ended up doing a [ floorplan](https://78.media.tumblr.com/e75ce02e21c3f3de25923a99b18ab130/tumblr_p9pavxX6Kf1w3f6mno1_1280.png) good lord.
> 
> these two are so fucking cute i wanna die but fuck they're giving me a hard time writing the next few chapters. stop making out and fight nazis goddamnit


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “S’about one o’clock, thought I’d let you sleep in.” Bucky grins down at her, crooked and lethargic. She’s briefly side-tracked by how handsome he looks first thing in the morning, hair rumpled and smile sleepy.
> 
> And then what he said registers.
> 
> Oh no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe tw for night terrors/ptsd/phantom pains ?? idk just to be safe imma update the tags

_“Noor, Nora, listen to me, you have to run. It’s a straight shot, just run.” Hands on her face, forcing her to pay attention. Only to him. Chaos erupts around, but George forces her gaze only to him._

“ _But David, Michael, Matthew—”_

_“Nora, they’re gone. They’re gone, I’m sorry. I couldn’t protect them, Noor, but you’re not dying too. You need to go.”_

_The hands leave her face, grasp something at his neck. Puts it over her head. A flash of navy glass on a sterling chain._

_“Noor. If you lose or break this, I swear on Mom's grave, I will haunt you until your dying breath and beyond.”_

_A shallow laugh. Tearful. Interrupted. An ungodly shriek that echoes hundreds of times over, earsplitting._

_“Now run. Nora, **RUN.** ”_

_Feet move without further prompting, boots catching on stone and concrete, metal and glass. She just needed to get to the building. The one they were all avoiding._

_Blindsides her, swoops in from her right. Knocks her hard off balance, boots twisting and catching and she’s falling, falling---_

_Lands with a hard thud. Uncomfortable. The taste of copper in the back of her throat. Vision clears, why can’t she move? Need to—need to—_

_Looks down._

_Rebar sticking up out of her side like a grotesque limb._

_All at once, pain – ungodly pain, starting at her side, spreading throughout her whole body._

_A bloody, spluttering cough. A whimper of pain, unheard in the chaos, among the bloodcurdling screeches and thousands of others. Cries for help that are echoed nearly as much as the screams._

_“Our F-father, who a-art in Heaven, hallowed be th-thy name.” Bloodied hand presses to the sterling crucifix, words that had meant so much to her parents, to her brothers, falling in a desperate plea for mercy from a God who wasn’t listening. “Thy kingdom come, thy wuh—will be done, ‘n Earth, s’it is in Heaven.” ;_

_Her vision is going… blue. Blue?_

_“Guh-give us this day our d-daily bread,” Another cough, a spray of blood, and more blue fills her vision. “Ah-and forgive us—forgive us our tr-trespasses.”_

_It’s electric, like flashes of lightning, wrapping around her, almost dulling the pain. Is this… death? “ ‘s’we forgive those… who… who… trespass ‘gainst us, ‘nd lead us—l-lead us not into tuh-temptation;”_

_A moan of pain. Vision darkening._

_“Buh-But deliver… deliver us from… from evil.”_

_The blue flashes across her vision again, wraps her in lightning. and she’s falling. Falling._

_Cold. Shivering. Painful._

_A voice… saying something. Sounds like they’re speaking underwater. Concentrates to hear it._

_Nora? Nora, doll, No--_

* * *

 

“--ra? Nora, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Bucky’d woken with a start when Nora had begun thrashing, crying out, words incomprehensible, though the tears streaming down her face spoke volumes.

He’d seen night terrors aplenty out on the front. In captivity. Had a few of his own. So he holds her close, wipes away her tears, voice soft and soothing, an attempt to slowly coax her out of it.

“Hurts – _hurts, get it—get it out!”_ Eyes wide open, pupils blown, though they’re glassy, unclear. Bucky follows her hands with his gaze, gripping at something on her side, something not there.

“Nora, sweetheart, there’s nothing there, you’re safe.” He places his hand on hers, but when his palm grazes her side, she moans in pain. Instantly, his hand lifts, and he holds her face between both hands, gentle, soft, thumbs wiping away tears. “Nora, listen to me. You’re safe. There’s nothing there. You’re with me.”

The words are muffled in her ears. Garbled, almost, but the voice is recognizable. Bucky. That was Bucky’s voice. _He needs to run, leave her, he can’t be here, they’re coming, god they’re—it hurts. It hurtsithurtsithurts—_

“Nora. You’re safe, you’re with me, you’re with me.”

Her eyes focus. Diamond blues, different to the lightning strikes that had surrounded her. Concern swirling in their depths. Worry. _Bucky._

“I – I cuh-can’t move.” The words slip without her permission, a child’s whimper, and when she lifts her hand from her side, the blood makes her tremble. “Help m-me.”

“Nora Rose Joseph, listen to me. You are safe. You are not hurt. You’re here, with me, in London.”

_London? No—it’s… Wait. Wait—_

The pain in her side throbs, radiates. She looks up at him, into those blue depths again, tight and worried. Down at her hand. _Clean._ Not one sign of red.

At her side, expecting to see that damning piece of steelwork, holding her in place like some morbid art installation. Nothing but her own hands, the crumpled navy silk of her evening dress.

“Bucky…”  

He sees the exact moment her eyes come into focus, the exact moment she falls out of the terror and into her reality. “Yeah, doll?”

She says nothing further, wraps trembling arms around him and buries her face in his chest, heaving a shaking sigh. He says nothing further, holds her close and strokes her hair until she calms. He wants to ask, what the memory was that caused her such pain and fear, but he doesn’t want her slipping into it again. So he holds her.

It could be minutes, it could be hours before Nora calms, relaxing into Bucky’s chest. He hasn’t asked her about the memory, and for that, she’s grateful.

The memory, the night terror, the phantom pain— it all goes back in the cage it had broken out of, and she locks it tight this time. She would not revisit it anytime soon.

Instead, she focuses on the memories of last night. The kiss by the door. The way he’d carried her to the bed, lips warm on her own, exploratory, gentle. Hands ever polite, never straying beyond her waist, though the thigh nestled between hers had been not unwelcome, and the marks scattering her collarbone were an indication of the same.

Nora’s cheeks flame, and she shifts to hide her face further.

“’Morning, sweetheart.” She can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest, hums quietly in response. His lips press to the top of her head, and she looks up, squinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

_Sunlight… Heavy sunlight…_

_Oh no._

“What time is it?” Nora asks, voice rough from sleep as she leans up on an elbow, reaching for the alarm clock on the night stand.

“S’about one o’clock, thought I’d let you sleep in.” Bucky grins down at her, crooked and lethargic. She’s briefly side-tracked by how handsome he looks first thing after waking up, hair rumpled and smile sleepy.

And then what he said registers.

_Oh no._

“ _Whoa—hey,_ what’s the rush, doll?” Bucky asks in surprise as Nora jumps out of the bed, almost elbowing him in the face and knocking the partition around her bed off balance. She steadies it, in the process putting her fist through the fine printed silk, the sound of the silk tearing sending a pang of guilt through her. She’d liked the printed screen, thought it had lightened up the place. _Bull in a china shop,_ she can hear David taunting.

“ _Aw, nuts—_ I told Howard I’d meet him at eleven. He said he wants to test some new gear—” Bucky’s propped himself up on his elbows, watching her in amusement as she rifles through her closet, throwing her clean clothes on the end of the bed. Bucky grins at the sight of the dress uniform, oddly proud of her, but averts his eyes out of respect for her when her lingerie and stockings land on top of the uniform. “Sorry – I woulda made you breakfast, but—”

“It’s okay, Nora.” He stands, shoving his feet into his boots, tucking his shirt back in. He yawns, brushing his hand through his hair as Nora gathers her clothes in her arms. “I should head back, anyway. Steve’s probably tearin’ the place apart that I’ve been out all night.”

“He is a little paranoid, isn’t he?” Nora hums, hugging her clothes to her chest. Bucky grins, moving to stand in front of her.

“Y’look cute like this, y’know?” He muses, tugging a strand of her sleep-mussed hair, leaning down to brush a gentle kiss across her lips. She lets out a little hum of amusement, returning the kiss before pulling back, shifting her clothes to one arm to run a hand through her hair. “Any plans after you meet Stark?”

Nora, shrugs, “depends on what he wants to test, but I’ll be able to leave once he gets, inevitably, distracted. Whether by his work, or a girl, who knows, but the point still stands.”

Bucky nods contemplatively at her long-winded, roundabout explanation that, _no, she didn't have any plans after meeting with Stark_. “Mind if I pick you up for dinner at seven?”

 _A date. He was asking her out on a date._ “Seven.” She agrees.

* * *

 

“You’re late.”

Howard doesn’t look up from the invention he’s tinkering with, but the smirk on his face is as clear as day. Nora narrows her eyes, making sure her collar is covering the marks Bucky had made. _Hot lips on her skin, teeth scraping, shivers down her spine at the flick of his tongue._ “I slept in.”

“With, uh… with who?” The connotation is as clear as day, and Howard looks up, smirk wide, brow raised. Nora fixes him with an offended look.

“I’m a good Christian girl, I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Howard Stark.”

“In my experience, good Christian girls are _never_ good Christian girls.” Howard chuckles, eyes a little unfocused as he delves into his memories. Before Nora can knock him out of it ( _however literal that may be_ ), he straightens, one hand behind his back, the other rubbing his chin, circling Nora slowly. “High collar. Big smile. Your good lipstick, the bombshell red with the slight touch of plum. Bounce in ya step. _Aaand_ …” He stops before her, sniffing exaggeratedly, pursing his lips in a mock thoughtful moue. “The slightest hints of Old Spice. Shower all you want, Old Spice sticks. _Good Christian girl_ indeed. Was that his name then— _‘Christian’_?”

“You _pig._ ” She scoffs, adjusting her collar surreptitiously, cheeks pink as Nora crosses her arms. “Not all girls are like, who was it, Mary? Laura? Dolly? Mags?”

“Gotta have one for each day of the week, kid!” Howard’s smirk breaks into a bright grin, and Nora rolls her eyes in disgust. “Now, let’s focus on why you were supposed to be here two hours ago. Since you’re late, you don’t get any say in what the uniform looks like. Your good Captain’s already taken care of that.”

“So why am I here, then?” Nora asks, hands running over the various pieces sitting on the table. They all look like variations of gauntlets, each one slightly different from the other.

“Reports on your performance back in Italy says you’re good with your blades.” He grabs the one she’s looking at, a medieval looking piece, and tosses it over his shoulder carelessly, instead putting in her hands a pair of sleek silver vambraces. “Put these on.”

They slide on almost seamlessly, _a little loose,_ Howard mumbles to himself, examining the clasp with a hum. “What’re they made of, Howard?”

“Vibranium. Last of it. Used most of it making the Captain’s shield, but the offcuts… just enough left over for this.” The vambraces cover her palm, cutting off at the fingertips, shielding her forearm up to her elbow. “Here, watch this.”

Howard picks up the standard issue .45 sitting on the work bench, and she realises what he’s about to do—

“ _Howard, don’t—”_

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

The bullets tinkle to the ground, flattened down to little buttons on the ground.

“Vibration absorbent, stronger than steel, light as anything.” Howard looks extremely proud of himself, not even the least bit ashamed of himself for the stunt he just pulled. “But you’re not asking the important question, kid. What’d I say at the start?”

“Some horrible insinuation about my virtues and morals.”

 _“Not that._ Use that brain I know you got.” He grabs his notepad and pen, scribbling something down, examining her vambraces while he waits for her to figure out… _whatever it is._

“Reports said I’m good with my blades?” Nora asks uncertainly, and Howard tips his pen in her direction in confirmation. “Okay. But what does that have to do with _these?_ ” She questions, raising her arms in front of her face.

“Correct!”

“Huh?”

“Correct _question,_ kid.” Howard taps her nose with the pen, and she wrinkles her nose as he throws his pen and notepad down on the work bench, grabbing her left arm and repositioning it. Elbow at a ninety-degree angle, middle finger against the meat of her palm, just below her thumb.

“Okay, now get ready to catch.” He instructs, moving to stand next to her side and mimic the pose. “Now, do _this,_ and slide your finger up when you do _._ ” With a quick movement, he flicks his arm out, straight as a rod, hand in a loose fist.

Nora raises a brow, but shrugs, and mimics the movement. There’s a quiet _schwing_ sound, and on instinct, her hand closes in a fist, holding onto – _a blade?_

“It’s your standard F.S. stiletto, no need for those bulky handles. I’m gonna use some carbon polymer for the fingers, so the blades don’t hurt you. You’ve got four stored in each brace. Easily replaceable, so that you don’t have a struggle trying to find new ones whenever you toss them at Nazis. There’s a little – hatch, here, push down, slide this panel across, then the other side; didn’t want it to move too easy, can’t have ‘em sliding out accidentally in the middle of a fight, but you gotta be able to replace them without me by your side, y’know?” Howard explains, showing her the schematics and features of the vambraces. “Whaddaya think, kiddo?”

Nora looks at the blade in her hand, the vambraces. With a grin, she flicks out her right hand, catching the blade that slides out seamlessly, twirling it between her fingers. “Thank you, Howard.”

“Aw, stop bein’ so cute, kid. Now take ‘em off, let me fix ‘em.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howard's a little fuccboi but I love him christ 
> 
> researchin 1940s mens cologne had to be one of the weirder things i've googled tbh 
> 
> Sleepy bucky barnes is the cutest. Respectful bucky barnes looking away from a girl's underwear even after spending the night mackin on with her is even better. I love him a lot.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What should we be calling you then, Joseph? Since you’re both cut from the same cloth.”
> 
> “ _Joseph_ ’s good. _Sergeant_ if you’re feelin’ fancy.” Nora grins, pushing a branch up and out of the way as she ducks under it. “ _Nora Rose Joseph_ if you wanna see me run, ‘cause the only time I heard that was when I was about to get a yard-stick broken on my behind, and I’m not lookin’ to have that done again.”

The uniform Steve and Howard had put together was _sure something,_ Bucky had muttered, eyes speaking volumes of pride at seeing Nora combat-ready. Made up of carbon polymer, it was similar in style to the standard-issue combat uniform, though the trousers, the shirt and jacket a deep shade of navy. Black combat boots that laced up over her trousers to mid-calf. The vambraces had also been painted a deep navy, the same carbon polymer used on her uniform protecting her fingers from her blades, though they cut off at her fingertips. With her hair braided and wrapped in a knot at the base of her head, an M1A1 strapped to her back, a .45 Colt to her thigh, a combat knife to her calf, Nora was ready to follow Steve Rogers into hell or high-water to win this war.

* * *

“So, we call him Captain America, right?” Dum-Dum chats amiably as their small group makes their way through the thick woods, coming up on the Hydra facility. “What should we be calling you then, Joseph? Since you’re both cut from the same cloth.”

“ _Joseph’s_ good. _Sergeant_ if you’re feelin’ fancy.” Nora grins, pushing a branch up and out of the way as she ducks under it. “ _Nora Rose Joseph_ if you wanna see me run, ‘cause the only time I heard that was when I was about to get a yard-stick broken on my behind, and I’m not lookin’ to have that done again.”

There’s a rumble of laughter from the Commandos, but Dum-Dum shakes his head. “How about Miss America?”

“She’s a Sergeant, though.” Steve comments, and Nora’s smile brightens. That he won’t let her title be dropped, even for a code-name, makes her heart warm.

“Besides, we already got a Miss America.” Gabe adds, kicking aside a rock in his path. “Jean Bartel might have somethin’ to say about another Miss America poppin’ up.”

“Yeah, but Sergeant America doesn’t have the same ring to it.” Dum-Dum frowns. Nora laughs, shaking her head as she falls into step beside Bucky. He nudges his shoulder into hers lightly, a crooked smile directed down at her. She squeezes his hand, once, briefly, before letting go. They’d made the decision to keep their relationship for when they were off the field. _But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity for a calming touch._ “I got it! _Shadowblade._ ”

“No.” Bucky cuts off that suggestion from the get-go, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it, like something out of one of the comics in the paper.

“Okay.” Dum-Dum is unphased, side-stepping a fallen tree. “ _Shadow.”_

Nora snorts, loud, at Dum-Dum’s suggestion. “I’m not going to be popping out of dark corners with my blades, Dum-Dum.”

“That’s the _irony_ of it!” He emphasises, waving his shotgun. “They’re gonna expect that. Not you barrellin’ in front and centre.”

“I don’t _barrel_ in.” Offended at the chuckles from the Commandos, Nora frowns. “I… _tactically_ _manoeuvre_ myself into the fray.”

“Sure you do, Shadow.”

“Hey, kids, when you’re done,” Steve calls from the front, nodding forward. “We’re here.”

* * *

  _Should we knock on the front door?_

_I think it’s one of those places where you let yourself in. Like a department store, or a church!_

That had been their plan, and truly, Nora had loved it. The handful of guards protecting the facility hadn’t even been a challenge. It was when she and Steve had slammed the doors open, a magnificent spray of splintering wood and steel, bullets spraying, that’s when the fight truly began.

Where Steve had his shield blocking bullets and flashes of blue light, her vambraces do the same. The blue energy dissipates harmlessly against the vibranium, her shots precise and unforgiving. Always to cause a quick death. When her bullets run dry, Nora dodges the shots, instead slipping into the shadows ( _absolutely not proving Dum-Dum’s point,_ Morita teases after) and around behind the Hydra offense while their attention is captured by the others, arms flicking out in the gesture Howard had shown her. The blades slide into her hands, cutting through uniform and flesh as easy as a warm knife through butter.

Bucky does his best to focus the firefight, but he can’t help admiring the way Nora moves. Fast and precise, a swirling blur of blades. Her kills are quick, deaths quick. An attempt to ease her conscience, he guesses. Those who fall to her blades and bullets do not suffer painful deaths, are instead granted a mercy he’s not sure they deserve.

And when she walks out by his side, the facility a smouldering pile of rubble behind them, covered in soot, sweat, dust and blood, he can’t help the way his heart swells in admiration of her.

* * *

 The camp they’ve set up while they wait for extraction is hidden in a crevice, a natural shelter formed by the rocks in the dips and valleys of the forest. The Commandos have already fallen asleep, though Nora remains awake by the firelight, taking the first watch with her fingertips wrapped around the rosary she’s pulled from her neck, fingers worrying over the beads.

Her gaze remains on the fire, seeking silent forgiveness for her sins.

“You should be sleepin’, sweetheart.” Bucky’s voice is quiet, from where he lays on his sleeping bag to her left, eyes on her in the firelight. Nora smiles, huffs a quiet sigh as she slips the rosary back over her head, shifting closer and running a hand through his hair.

“You all fell asleep before we could decide who takes first watch. I don’t mind. Wouldn’t be able to sleep with all the snoring anyway.” She replies softly, and he chuckles under his breath, leaning into her touch.

“I’m up now. I’ll take watch. You gotta rest.” He sits up as the fire crackles beside them, leaning over to brush a strand of her hair back. She’s undone it from the tight braid it had been in, soft waves of brunette being tugged by the cool December wind as she pulls the thin blanket from her sleeping bag closer around her.

“Aw, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” She teases, and he rolls his eyes, the hand in her hair moving, instead taking her hand and pulling her close. Nora allows herself to be tugged until she’s lying beside Bucky, his arm around her waist, pulling her back to his chest.

“Then you’ll never get any sleep.” He murmurs quietly in her ear, and she shakes her head, laughing quietly as she settles back into his warm embrace. “You were amazin’ out there, Nora. You… I know you don’t like… killing… but—”

“If I save more lives than I take, it’s worth it.” Nora says softly, eyes on the dancing firelight. His hand finds hers, wraps around it and squeezes it tight, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“We’re savin’ so many people here, sweetheart. We have to believe that.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of it, too, and Nora turns onto her back, looking up at him. He’s leaning on his elbow, looking down at her with ghosts in his eyes, head framed by stars.

“Do you believe it?” She asks as a log crackles in the fire. He’s quiet a short moment, reaches down with his free hand to gently tuck her hair back behind her ear.

“I… believe that we’re doing something right.” Bucky replies quietly, thumb stroking her cheek with a small smile that doesn’t entirely reach his eyes. “But I also believe they’re thinkin’ the same thing, on the other side of it. They're human, just like us. Thinkin’ what they’re doing is the right thing to do. It’s just the way of war, I guess.”

Nora's almost surprised by the insightful answer, but she understands. Her mind cast back to his letters, the belief he'd done terrible things in the name of war. She understood that now, more than before. “C'mere.”

Her whisper is so soft he almost misses it, as she reaches up, sliding her hand into his hair, pulling him down gently. The kiss isn't lustful, instead, it's a chaste, soft thing, sends a warm feeling shooting through his blood. Comfort. Adoration. _Lo—_

No. It's too early. Too early to be saying that.

But being in a war zone, _the great war..._ All rules flew out the window when you could die tomorrow.

And besides. It's not like he was saying it aloud yet. In the privacy of his own mind, he could admit it. _Love._

A soft sigh parts her lips below his, and he deepens the kiss, the hand not supporting his weight finding her waist, pulling her close.

_Crr-pop!_

The log on the fire crackles again, startling the pair into remembering where they are. Bucky brushes his lips against hers, to the tip of her nose, to her forehead. A crooked smile as her lashes flutter and she stifles a yawn, pulling her sleeping bag over her.

“Sleep, sweetheart. I'll keep watch.”

* * *

 When Steve wakes for his watch, he’s momentarily surprised by the sight of his two best friends. Nora asleep, her face pressed to Bucky's shirt, while he props himself up on his elbow, arm wrapped protectively around her waist, an adoring smile on his face as he reaches down to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face.

Steve sits up, the noise drawing Bucky's eyes to him. His gaze narrows at Steve. _Wake her and you're dead._

Steve's brows raise, and he lifts his hands in surrender, a teasing grin on his lips. Nora's sleep protected and watch secured, Bucky's glare turns into a sheepish little grin at being caught, but he gives an infinitesimal shrug. Steve's smirk softens. Truly, he's happy for both of them. He hadn't known when he'd first suggested Nora write to Bucky that this is where it would lead, but he wasn't displeased that it had. They both deserved happiness.

Steve adds another log to the fire, and Bucky shifts, pulling Nora closer and pressing a kiss to her hair, eyes closing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not attached to Shadow as her codename so feel free to throw em out there if you think of one!! We're gettin 2 the juicy stuff now.
> 
> Bucky's stupid in love with his warrior girlfriend oh man


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky’s shots are precise, kills clean. Sight the target, breathe slow, squeeze the trigger gently. Pull the bolt back. New target. He’s the eye above, watching their backs when they aren’t.

Howard had picked them up in the very plane he’d once dropped Nora and Steve into an enemy warzone in, grinning so bright and wide at them all Nora had to do a double take.

“Why so happy, Mr Stark?” Nora asks, settling herself comfortably in the co-pilot’s seat. Not that she’d be helping in any way, not that Howard needed any, but she liked being up front with him as the world disappeared below them.

“We’re doin’ great things here, kiddo. Can’t you feel it?” He asks, starting up his standard flight procedures. “We’re taking down Hydra. We’re saving _lives._ ”

“We’re trying, at least.” She hums, pulling the luxury blanket from the under the seat, where she’d stashed it last time, spreading it over herself. “Wake me up when we get home.”

“Sure thing, kiddo. Hey,” Howard doesn’t take his eyes off the sky, but there’s a tell-tale smirk building on his lips. “It’s Barnes, ain’t it?”

Nora fights a flush, looking over her shoulder to where the Commandos have sprawled all over the cabin. Bucky’s watching her, lips lifting in a warm smile when he notices her glance. Smiling ever so slightly, she shakes her head and turns back to Howard, shaking her head absently. “What’s Barnes?”

“Barnes’ the one you’ve been goin’ all goo-goo eyed over. And he’s just as sweet on you.” Howard shrugs, flicking a switch and adjusting a dial on the control panel. “It’s nice, seein’ you find someone.”

“You goin’ soft on me, Stark?”

“Not in the slightest, kid. I’m just sayin’.”

“… Thanks, Howard.”

* * *

 “Merry Christmas!”

Nora enjoys Christmas, enjoys fond memories of her brothers around meagre meals they scrounged together, presents terribly wrapped and torn into eagerly.

Now she didn’t have her brothers, but instead had a new family. Steve, Bucky, Peggy and Howard. She’d been given the run of the kitchen in Howard’s London estate, happily so. Though rationing in effect, having Howard Stark’s wallet and name got Nora’s hands on quality ingredients. Now setting out a steaming roast on the table in the informal dining room (yet still the size of her apartment), the rest of this mishmash family chattering excitedly as she does.

“This looks amazing, Nora.” Steve compliments, gesturing her to her seat next to Bucky and taking over, slicing the roast with ease and passing it out, Bucky dishing out the sides with a warm smile to Nora.

“He’s right, sweetheart, the smell is makin’ my stomach rumble.” Bucky places a full plate in front of Nora, and she grins, shrugging humbly.

“Stop talkin’ and pass it my way.” Howard interjects, hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey.

“Manners, Howard.” Peggy chastises, flicking her napkin out onto her lap and accepting her plate from Steve with a smile. “Wait your turn.”

“I’m starvin’ and the kid makes a good meal!” The words are not bitter, accompanied as they are by a bright smile, kind and affectionate towards Nora.

“How many times I gotta tell you not to call me _kid?_ ” Nora shakes her head as Bucky sit back down beside her with his own plate, squeezing her hand once before digging into his meal. Nora feels as though she should feel guilty for enjoying such a Christmas while in the midst of a war, but can’t bring herself to, not while surrounded by friends that have become family. Not while sat so close to a man that showers her in admiration and affection.

* * *

 “I know presents should wait until Christmas day, but… I didn’t wanna.” Bucky grins, holding out a small rectangle wrapped in brown paper. While Steve drives Peggy home and Howard disappears off to wherever it is he decided to go, Nora and Bucky had moved onto the terrace overlooking the pool. He’s wrapped his thick woollen coat around her shoulders, extra protection against the cold December night, and Nora smiles bright up at him, accepting the gift with a quiet, _“thank you._ ”

With careful fingers, she unwraps the present, fingers running over the blue velvet box inside. Bucky looks nervous, but says nothing, watching her open it, hearing her little gasp of surprise.

Inside is a delicate gold chain, the links so small it looks like a fine thread of gold. At the very front and centre is a single, perfect pearl. It's a simple necklace, _beautiful_. With only a moment's hesitation, Nora lifts one arm, pulling the rosary gently from around her neck, tucking it into the pocket of her dress. Hands the box to Bucky, turns and lifts her hair wordlessly. Bucky understands easily, sets the box on the little patio table and lifts the necklace out, putting it on and sealing the tiny clasp. Nora lets her hair drop, fingertips pressed to the single pearl where it sits at the centre of her collarbone, turning back to face Bucky.

“It's beautiful. Thank you.” Pushing up on her toes, Nora presses a kiss to his cheek, and he smiles, albeit a little shy.

“I wasn't sure... I mean, you don't have to wear it, if you want to wear the Rosary.” Bucky says, twining his fingers with hers. Nora gives a small smile, shakes her head.

“I think... I think it's time to stop relying on it so much, anyway. All it does is remind me of my family. I love them, and I'll never forget them, but maybe it's time to let them go.” She squeezes his hand, warm in her own. He always runs warm. “I'll never get back to them.”

The wording strikes Bucky as odd, when he thinks on it later. She’d said they’d died. _Never get back to them._ Implies the opposite. _Never get them back_ would make more sense. He figures it’s just a slip, words mixing on their way from her brain to her mouth.

In the moment, it brushes past him, barely noticed. Instead her brings her fingertips to his lips, presses a soft kiss to them, smile reassuring, warm. Nora draws a deep breath, follows on a deep exhale as she pulls her hand from his.

“I’ve got your present inside too. I’ll just…” She disappears inside for the briefest moment, returning with a wrapped rectangle and a bright smile. “Steve helped.”

He accepts the gift with a grin, tries to unwrap it neatly instead of tearing into the paper like an excited kid. It’s a silver tin, his initials engraved on the lid. He opens it, a delighted laugh dropping from his lips at the contents. A small assortment of coloured pencils, a sketchbook little bigger than his palm with paper of the best quality.

“Steve said you two used to take art classes together, that you enjoyed it and were good at it.” Nora explains, “It’s small enough you can take it with you, when we’re sent… wherever we end up.”

Bucky closes the tin, places it on the patio table beside the velvet box that housed the necklace, and wraps his arms around Nora, bringing her close for a soft kiss, gentle. “It’s wonderful.” He hums against her lips, and Nora lets loose a little laugh. “I love it. I… I love you.”

Nora freezes, momentarily, pulls back so she can look him in the eyes. The words had slipped past his lips without meaning to, but they feel right on his tongue, feel right in the air. He means them. With his whole being.

_It’s perfect._ After the surprise, the shock at the words, a warm feeling had nestled in Nora’s chest, set her heart racing. Her smile widens, pushes up on her toes to kiss him deeply, and he responds in a way that sends a delightful shiver down her spine. She’d never want anything more than this, more than him.

“I love you, James.” The use of his given name makes him feel warm, makes him hum and pull her so close there’s barely a breath of space between them.

* * *

 They’re pulled away between Christmas and New Year, sent to take down another Hydra facility. Bucky sits in a sniper’s nest this time, keeping an eye on the Commandos while Steve and Nora lead the others into the fray.

Dernier has an affinity for explosions, with Morita and Gabe’s help, setting charges about the facility while Dum-Dum, Falsworth, Nora, Steve and Bucky keep the soldiers occupied.  Barely two missions in, they move already as a well-oiled machine. The sharp _crack!_ of Bucky’s sniper rings out among the dull _thunk_ of Steve’s shield.

_“Wah-hoo!”_ Dum-Dum takes extreme pleasure in executing the soldiers that dare step in his path, joyful as his shotgun rings out.

“Dugan, quit your wahooing and be useful!” One of Nora’s blades flies past his cheek, embedding in the neck of the soldier that had been sneaking up on him.

“I am useful. I’m very useful. You see how many of these guys are down? ‘Cause ‘a me!” Dugan puffs out his chest proudly, shotgun spraying.

“Not the time, kids!” Steve yells out as his shield bounces off the helmet of three soldiers, and Nora laughs as one of Bucky’s bullets whizzes past her.

It’s almost too easy, fighting while enhanced as she is. A punch at half-strength will knock out a soldier double her size. A roundhouse to the midriff of one sends him flying into the other. The shots she doesn’t dodge bounce harmlessly off her vambraces, scuffing the navy paint.

Bucky’s shots are precise, kills clean. _Sight the target, breathe slow, squeeze the trigger gently. Pull the bolt back. New target._ He’s the eye above, watching their backs when they aren’t. When Nora’s half-focused, the fight barely a challenge for her and Steve’s enhanced abilities, instead chattering amiably with Dugan as she lets another blade fly. He pulls the bolt back again. _Tchh-ch-click._

_You’re down to two, Nora, careful._

_Sight, breathe, squeeze. Pull the bolt. New target._

Steve keeps forgetting to watch his left. Too used to Bucky being in the fight beside him. _Crack! Tchh-ch-click._

“ _Ahh--!”_

Bucky’s finger freezes on the trigger, scope swinging to find Nora.

She’s still standing, one arm wrapped around her left side, the other swiping the blood from a cut on her cheekbone. Two soldiers stand above her, taunting. Bucky’s blood boils, but before he can even focus down his sights, Nora’s swept a leg out, knocking the soldier on the left to the ground. Her right hand flicks out, the other soldier gurgling as the blade embeds itself in his neck. Standing, and with a foot on the chest of the first soldier, she leans down and delivers one hard punch to his head. The crack is clear as day, as is the implication for the man on the ground.

Almost as though she feels his eyes on her, she holds up a hand, forefinger and thumb touching, three fingers raised. _O.K._

_That's my girl._

If his next pull on the bolt is a little more vicious, and his next shot lands right between the eyes instead of the heart, he pretends not to notice.

* * *

 “How're your ribs?” Bucky asks as Nora settles next to him in the back of the truck that's shuttling them back to the Allied base. She’d tried but wasn't able to hide the wince as she'd lowered herself onto the bench next to him. The cut on her cheek had already scabbed over, and would be little more than a pink line by the time they hit camp, her busted lip already mended, swelling going down. He was sure the hit to her ribs had injured her more than she let on.

“Aw, I'm fine.” Nora hums, resting her head against his shoulder, hair loose. He'd noticed she liked to undo the tight braid as soon as they left field, fingers carding through the brunette strands until they became cascading waves past her shoulder blades. “I’ll be right as rain by tomorrow morning, nothing worth panicking about.”

“Hmm, so you’re good when I do this?” Bucky brushes his hand over her side, the lightest press on her ribs. Nora draws a sharp breath through her teeth, shoving his hand away, albeit meekly. “S’what I thought.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She mutters, settling back against his side with a yawn. “I’m fine, love. I’ll just rest a little, be fine in the morning.”

“ _Love?_ ”

“Mhm. Would you prefer something different?”

“Definitely not. Get some sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you when we get to camp.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[A year later, during their art class,](http://marvelcinematicuniverse.wikia.com/wiki/Winter_Soldier#World_War_II) Barnes and Rogers found out that the United States of America had joined the Second World War._
> 
>  
> 
> Bucky Barnes is a canon overachiever, science geek, starving artist, and champion jock. I love him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "James..."  
> It’s a name only she uses, a name that has him shivering in the best way, a low sound deep in his chest as he hauls Nora up against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeny weenie hints of nsfw here ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) y'all been warned

“ _Mmph_ , Bucky, B-Bucky—” Nora’s shallow breaths fill her small apartment as Bucky’s stubble reddens her neck, lips and teeth leaving marks along her neck and collarbone. Her hand scrabbles against the door he’s pushed her against, fingertips glancing against the knob before she finally manages to twist the lock, hand flying to his hair to guide his lips back to hers. They’d barely dropped their jackets and kicked off their boots before Bucky had pulled Nora in for a bruising kiss. And now? “ _James_ …”

It’s a name only she uses, a name that has him shivering in the best way, a low sound deep in his chest as he hauls Nora up against him. Still in her combat uniform, there’s no hindrance of a skirt preventing her from wrapping her legs around his waist, his hands roaming her body with no shame. When he speaks, each word is punctuated with a bruising kiss. “You are beautiful.”

“Y’tryin’ t’get fresh with me, love?” Nora manages against his lips, smiling as his hands find her hips. Pressing her close to… _Oh_.

“Babydoll, you bet your sweet butt I am.” Bucky grins, and Nora laughs, arms wrapped around his neck. Her head tilts towards the screened corner housing her bed, and it’s all the invitation Bucky needs to carry her there. Nora pushes the screen at the end of the bed aside, and they both laugh as it clatters carelessly to the ground. Bucky lays Nora down, beginning to stand. “I’ll get it—”

“—Later.” Nora murmurs, pulling him back with a bright smile, dragging him into a deep kiss that has him forgetting all about the mess he’s making of her home. Bucky’s weight on top of her is welcome, warm, safe. His lips brush against hers, light, teasing, and he smirks down at her, waiting for her to give in. And give in she does, pulling Bucky down with a grin, settling him close against her. One of his legs lands between hers, and she’s bold enough to push up against him, thigh brushing against the hard outline and making Bucky huff against her lips, hips jerking forward on instinct, hands tightening ever so on her hips. He laughs quietly, shaking his head and brushing lips against hers softly.

“Slowly, sweetheart.” He hums, one hand sliding up her side, thumb stroking at the underside of her breast with a soft smile. “I don’t wanna rush this. I want this to be good for you.”

“God, I love you.” Nora laughs, and Bucky grins, kissing her softly as his fingers work at the buttons of her shirt. He shifts between gentle and passionately bruising so fast it should make her dizzy, but instead it just sets her pulse racing, and when she arches up so he can pull her shirt out from under her, Nora brushes against that hardness again, and it sends a burning jolt of need flying through her veins, a soft, needy sound slipping past her lips without her permission.

Her lips find his neck, marking him the way he’s scattered them across her collarbone, as he tugs her silk camisole from her trousers, the cool fabric slipping against his fingers. His hand slides under it, warm palm resting against her stomach. “Babydoll, can I…?”

Bucky’s hand slides along her skin, and she’s distracted by the touch, by the way he feels, so close to her. She’s about to nod against his neck, about to raise her head and bring his lips to hers, when his hand suddenly stops, and he pulls back, the heat in his eyes fading into something more akin to confusion. His eyes lock with hers, a little crease between his brows as his fingertips hover over her skin.

“Nora, what’s--?” His hand moves again, to her left side, though it’s not an impassioned touch so much as exploratory, a tactile search of her skin. Nora’s so caught up in the heat of his fingers against her bare skin that it takes her a moment to realise what it is he’s feeling. The rough, raised, scarred skin where that rebar had pinned her in place. She sees the moment he understands what he’s feeling, the moment the look in his eyes changes from confusion to understanding, to concern and heartbreak. His fingers curl around the hem of her camisole, but before he can lift it to see, Nora pushes his hand out from underneath, tugging the silk down and pulling her shirt from the floor, tugging it on hastily.

Bucky, sensing her discomfort, sits up and backs away, settling at the end of the bed with his hands raised. “Easy, sweetheart. You don’t have to show me.”

Though his words are gentle and soothing, his eyes speak volumes. He recognizes scar-tissue, even by the touch. Has a fair few places marred on his own body from his years as a boxer, the time spent in captivity. He thinks back to the night terror she had, the way she’d held her side and cried in pain, pinned in place. Not an ordinary nightmare. A memory. He hesitates, just a moment, before he speaks. Less of a question, more of a statement. “You were… you were hurt. Badly.”

“I-“ She wants to tell him. This is one thing she doesn’t want to lie about. But the words won’t come. They won’t move past her lips, and her side throbs faintly with a pain that’s no longer there. “-I’m going to shower.”

Nora moves too fast for Bucky to stop her, stumbling off the bed and into the bathroom.

Bucky falls back against the pillows, huffing a sigh. Whatever it is that’d scarred her had to have been traumatising. That she’d run so quickly the minute his hand had even grazed the scars… Again, he’s reminded of their first night together in London, of her nightmare, the way she’d been unable to move, the way she’d whimpered in pain.

Bucky rubs a hand over his eyes as he hears the pipes rattle to life and the water begin to run, before he stands and starts to clean the mess he’d carelessly made while trying to take advantage of the one good thing in his life.

* * *

Nora’d stood under the hot spray as long as she could, forehead against the tiles, willing the phantom pains away until the water had turned cold. She hadn’t heard if Bucky had left yet, but she figured she’d apologise in the morning. She didn’t know what she’d say.

 _Like you haven’t already lied enough_ , she thinks bitterly as she wipes steam from the mirror and towels her hair dry. _You really don’t deserve him._

The cool silk dressing gown is a welcome feeling after the week in her uniform, and she’s still drying her hair as she emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. As she digs through her closet and pulls on her underwear under the dressing gown, all Nora can think about is getting in her pajamas and getting into her bed. His boots and coat aren’t next to the door where they’d dumped them, and the silk screen has been righted and folded back against the wall. At least he’d cleaned up before he left. Nora sighs. She’d gotten used to sleeping next to Bucky, but she supposes she could learn to sleep without him again. Won’t be as restful.

 _Tea_ , she decides, braiding her hair absently, _some tea’ll get me to sleep._

“Y’feelin’ better?”

“ _Holy sh-_ “

His voice is quiet and a little rough, just above a murmur. She hadn’t even noticed that Bucky was still lying against the pillows of her bed and under her thick blankets, down to his undershirt and shorts, eyes half-closed and looking a breath away from sleep.

“You’re still here.” Nora states, more to herself as she absently pulls her dressing gown closer around her. Bucky gives her a sleepy smile, shifting to the side and patting the space he’d freed up.

“C’mere, Nora.” She only hesitates a moment, the need to be close to him overpowering any shame she might have. As soon as she lays next to him, Bucky pulls her close, a kiss to her damp hair and a soft, sleepy hum. “Sweetheart, I love you. We don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. I just want you to be happy.”

 _Aw, shit_. Nora’s hand clenches once where it rests against his shirt, before she takes his hand. She doesn’t look at him as she directs his hand underneath the part in her dressing gown, over the scar on left side, and then it’s twin on her back. Entry and exit wounds. With her head on his chest, she can feel the way his breath hitches, though his fingers are gentle as they trace the scars. The puckered circles. The jagged lines where she’d tried to pull herself up and only ended up in more pain. The crosses and dots where she’d been stitched back together.

“I don’t remember what happened.” The lie is bitter on her tongue as she speaks quietly, but he’d never believe the truth about how she got there. “I woke up on the side of the river, piece of forked steelwork poking up out of my side. I knew my brothers were gone. I knew I was on the way there too, if some passer-by’s hadn’t found me.”

That was true, at least. Bucky’s hand tightens on her waist, for a bare moment, before his grip relaxes and he tilts her chin up with his free hand. “Thank you for tellin’ me. Trustin’ me.”

“Sorry for runnin’ off.” Nora mumbles sheepishly, and Bucky gives her a crooked little smile, pressing his lips to hers softly.

“Don’t be silly, doll. You’re allowed to tell me no if you’re not comfortable. I want you to be comfortable, I want you to tell me yes when you’re ready.” He hums, lips finding hers in another little kiss. “Now, you’re gonna get dressed, ‘cause I’m not havin’ you catch a cold, then you’re gonna turn out the lights and come get some sleep, hmm?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Nora follows the words with another kiss, stifling a yawn as she rolls off the bed and to her closet.

“Hey, Nora?”

“Hmm?”

“Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if you guys are picking up the hints im puttin down about her past but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ all will be revealed 
> 
> I hope you guys are enjoying it all so far. Ive got Big Plans so I hope you'll stick around!
> 
> Writing smut is hard. No pun intended.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You better be, because I’ve run out of people to punch for hurtin’ you.” Without another word, he sweeps her off her feet, an arm braced around her back, behind her knees, lifting her off the ground with a quiet hum. “What’m I gonna do with you, Nor?”
> 
> “Tease me, care for me, love me?”
> 
> “Until the end of time, baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW  
> y'all I haven't written smut in yonks god this is terrible im sorry

 

> **1944**
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

Between January and June, it looks as though the Allies are pushing further for their win. Operation Neptune is a success, and Allied forces make a landing in Normandy. The SSR and Howling Commandos take down two more Hydra facilities. Not without difficulties, of course. When a particularly bad hit breaks Nora’s leg and two ribs at the second facility, she almost thinks Bucky and Steve are going to stick her back at the desk at the SSR, especially when Bucky throws their strategy out the window and hops down from his sniper’s nest and right into the fray where she’d fallen, holding off soldiers with his side arm or his bare fists in a way that has her wondering whether he’s the one with the Erskine’s serum, not her. She manages to hold her own until the last soldier falls, and until Bucky turns to her, drops his empty sidearm amongst the rubble, locking her with his gaze as she heaves a painful sigh and leans against a crumbling wall.

There’s a rage, an almost bloodlust in his eyes that fades the minute his eyes fall on her. It instead becomes concern, worry, love. Steve, who had started toward her, instead cocks an eyebrow and suppresses a smile, turning away to join the others in a last sweep of the facility and letting Bucky approach her instead.

“You’re beautiful, as always, but you look a little broken, darlin’.” He says lightly, though his eyes are tight. Nora, trying to straighten out the bones in her leg so they don’t set wrong where they’ve already begun to knit together, a hand on her right side, grins somewhat sheepishly.

“Naw, I’m good. Or, I will be, by tomorrow morning.” Nora shrugs, even though the movement tugs uncomfortably at her ribs. Bucky sighs, steps closer. She can see the way he holds himself, tight and worried, though he tries to keep it light.

“You better be, because I’ve run out of people to punch for hurtin’ you.” Without another word, he sweeps her off her feet, an arm braced around her back, behind her knees, lifting her off the ground with a quiet hum. “What’m I gonna do with you, Nor?”

“Tease me, care for me, love me?”

“Until the end of time, baby.”

* * *

The air is thick and hot and sticky, the cloak of night doing absolutely nothing to easy the mid-summer temperatures.

While the other Commandos had stripped down to their shorts, for the sake of modesty, Nora had only dropped down to her thin cotton camisole and trousers. Bucky was asleep next to her, but at a good length away from her. Far too hot to be skin to skin, but she’d conceded to the hand that stretched across the gap, fingers twined with hers. They’re all asleep, oblivious to her insomnia in a way only men could be. Even Steve, whose body temperature runs even higher than hers and by all means should be having a worse time than she is, is fast asleep on his front, arms wrapped around the rolled sleeping bag he was using as a pillow.

If it were possible to take a picture, she would. And then sell it to newspapers all over the country, as payback. She sighs, tugging her hand from Bucky’s grip and rolling onto her back. With her heightened senses, the world is way too crystal clear for her. She’d much prefer it if everything was still fuzzy, blurry, muffled. Maybe then she’d get some sleep.

As it is, each leaf in the trees above is in clear detail, as are the stars in the sky. She can hear the leaves rustle, little animals moving amongst the branches, the hot breeze rippling over the lake—

_—Lake._

Sitting up quietly, albeit quickly, Nora makes sure the rest of the Commandos are sleeping before she slowly rises to her feet. Digging in her pack, she pulls out her clean underthings, the thin blanket it’d been too hot to use, her sidearm and combat knife. _Just in case._

* * *

The lake is still in the moonlight, and when she trails her fingertips through the water, it’s cool to the touch; blessedly, divinely cool. Nora’s gun and knife are placed within reach of the lake without being in danger of falling into the water, and her boots and trousers soon follow. Hair wrapped into a knot, Nora steps into the lake, the frigid water a blessed relief against her heated skin. She wastes no time in dropping until the water covers her shoulders, dunking her body in the sweet cold water before straightening up, fingertips dancing over the water, causing ripples in the moonlight.

She’s about to push deeper into the lake, when she feels that odd tingle, like something’s got it’s eyes on her. Her hair stands up on end, and she’s quick to diver for her gun, aims it in the direction the leaves are rustling only to see—

“Sergeant Joseph, you’re far from camp.” Bucky doesn’t seem at all fazed by the .45 pointed right at him, hands in the pockets of his trousers. He had to have thrown them on in a hurry, Nora notes absently as she relaxes, placing the gun back down. He’s bare chested and barefoot, trousers undone and low on his hips, hair rumpled from sleep. His lips quirk at the corner, gaze roaming over Nora in a way that makes her feel warm in a different way the unrelenting summer night had. Belatedly, she realises the thin material of her camisole would not have stood a chance against the water, transparent as cellophane the way it clings to her skin. In what she hopes is a surreptitious movement, Nora crosses her arms over her chest.

“It was too hot. Couldn’t sleep.” Nora replies as he comes closer, kneeling by her clothes, flipping the knife over with a finger, before looking up at her.

“I thought you were sleep-walkin’. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna hurt yourself.” He says gently, sitting by her clothes and rolling up his trousers before setting his feet in the shallows of the lake.

“I’m good, Bucky. You should go get some sleep.”

“Could I… join you, actually?” Bucky asks, lower lip sliding between his teeth and eyes locked with hers. That warm feeling is back in full force, and Nora nods, once, pushing deeper into the lake, trying to pretend she doesn’t know what that look in his eyes means.

_Usually means he’s about to try and get fresh with her, and she’s gonna let him._

Nora kicks off the ground, floating on her back, eyes up to the stars and moon. Despite the heat, it’s a clear night, and the speckled sky distracts her from the fact that she can hear Bucky’s trousers joining hers on the side of the lake, the feeling of the ripples his body causes in the water glancing against her side.

“You’re the smartest girl in the world, doll. This is much better than trying to sleep in the heat.” His voice is getting closer, but she still doesn’t look at him.

“Despite the heat, it’s a beautiful night.”

“Sure is.” There’s something in his voice that makes her look, finds him right next to her, looking down at her as she floats. She grins, letting her legs drop and taking Bucky’s hands. Slowly, she walks backwards, further into the lake, until even he’s barely standing, toes barely brushing the silt as Nora slowly kicks to keep herself afloat. There’s a low fire burning in Bucky’s eyes, his hands leaving hers in favour of her waist, hers finding his shoulders.

And as he begins to move closer, he catches the mischief on her face too late as Nora pushes down with half her strength, one leg hooking behind Bucky’s knees to buckle him as she dunks him in the water with a loud laugh, before swimming further out as he resurfaces, spluttering indignantly.

“Now, that was rude, Ms Joseph.” He’s trying not to grin, instead going for cold-hard revenge as he lunges towards her and she squeaks, ducking away from his grip. She feels like a kid again, down at her grandfather’s farm, playing in the lake with her brothers. But this is different, as he finally grabs around the waist, and instead of dunking her under the water, his laughter fades, melts into a lingering smile and that low fire in his eyes…

She doesn’t know who leans in first, but feels the way his hands slide under the wet material of her camisole, warm on her back on the water as his arms wind around her, the way hers grip tight to his shoulders as their lips meet, the heat in the kiss rivalling the midsummer night.

Nora’s legs wrap around his waist, and his hands slide down, pulling her tight against him, tight against the growing hardness in his shorts. A soft murmur of her name, the gentle grip of his hands, it’s almost overwhelming. Almost.

He’s walking, she realises, barely hearing the ripple of the water above each harsh breath, each soft sigh, bringing them further back into the shallows.

“Nora, baby, I want to…” He can barely get the words out for her greedy lips chasing his, but his question must be important, as he pulls back slightly, fingertips just barely dipping into the waistband of her underwear. “I want to touch you, Nora. Can I?”

_… Oh._

She’s a little dazed by the question, by the thought of those battle-roughened fingers sliding over her skin, that she completely forgets to answer. He looks uncharacteristically nervous, especially considering all of Steve’s stories about the many ladies he'd won over back home.

“You can say no, it’s okay.” He murmurs, a soft kiss to her lips, a gentle reassurance. “But if you want me to, I need you to say yes, baby. I won’t unless you do.”

_Words, Nora. Use your words!_

“ _Yes._ ” It’s a little breathless, a little shy, but sure and unhesitant. “Please.”

His lips quirk in a crooked grin, though there’s surprise in his eyes, like he hadn’t expected her to let him. “Always so polite.”

“Only for you— _mmph!_ ” Their lips crash together, fervent in a way never before, one of his hands sliding up her thigh, the other under her camisole, and as a thumb brushes ever so gently against her nipple in a way that makes her gasp, she’s never been so grateful she took off her bindings before sleeping.

“You’ll tell me,” Bucky murmurs against her lips, thumb moving in slow circles against her wet skin. “You’ll tell me if I go too far?”

His hands aren’t moving any further, as though it’s important that she answer before he continues, so she nods, hums affirmative against his lips, and it’s all the encouragement he needs, lifting her camisole from her skin, throwing it to the side of the lake and letting it land next to her gun with a wet _plop_. His gaze is hot on her skin, and while she’d feel the need to cover herself before anyone else, she doesn’t feel at all shy under his gaze, hot and adoring.

She supposes she’s also thankful that the water is high enough to cover the scars, distorted in the water and barely visible in the light.

“Good God, you’re gorgeous.” It’s all he says before she drags his lips to hers, the feeling of his bare chest to hers making her sigh. He’s soft and attentive, slowly fanning the flames in her blood with each kiss. He hoists her up further, leaving a mark on the top of her breast that makes her moan. The sound spurs him on more, and the hand that had been sitting on her thigh slides between her legs, and Nora’s breath hitches as his fingertips slide over the centre of her underwear. “Still okay?”

“ _So_ okay.” Boldly, she drops her hips slightly, rolling over the hardness that makes _his_ breath hitch. _Fair’s fair._

“Hold on to me, Nora.” He murmurs, and his lips close around a nipple at the same time his fingers drag against her. Though the sensation is dulled by the cotton, it sends an electric shock racing through Nora's body and the little sound of surprise is completely involuntary as her arms tighten around his shoulders, a hand sliding into his hair. He hums against her breast, smug, and she moves her hips, trying to get more friction from his fingers as his tongue flicks at her skin.

He moves slow, increasing the pressure of his fingers ever so, and when they finally slip under the cotton and graze across her skin, her nails rake involuntarily over his shoulders, lip bitten red in an effort to keep herself quiet. Bucky hisses quietly against her skin, the sharp exhale making her shiver, but when he looks up, he’s grinning. “S’that good?”

“Mhm.” It’s the only coherent answer she can give as his fingertips continue their torturous dance, finding every spot that makes her sigh, makes her moan, makes her gasp. He hesitates only once, waiting for her nod of approval, gaze hot before he slides single finger into her, and the sound she makes almost has him finishing in his shorts like a schoolboy. “ _James,_ Ch-Christ—”

“Y’feel good.” He rumbles, focused solely on her pleasure as she drags his lips to hers. It’s not long before she feels it, something like holding her breath, something building with each shallow pant. The only warning Bucky receives is the nails digging into his back, her forehead dropping to his shoulder and breath escaping in ragged gasps as she clenches around his finger. Bucky holds her, eases her through the waves of pleasure, until her hands relax on his body, a limp hand pushing his away gently.  “How was that?”

“S-somethin’ else.” She murmurs against his neck, and he chuckles, happy to carry her as she clings to him, lethargic. Nora raises her head, lips to his in a lazy, slow kiss, and he happily returns it with a hum. It’s only when he notices her fingertips dancing down his chest that he pulls away, catching her wrist lightly. “James?”

“S’okay, baby. You don’t have to.” Instead, he brings her fingertips to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to each one before carrying her from the lake. “I love you. I wanted to make you feel good.”

“Mmm, mission accomplished.” She teases as he sits by the edge of the lake, settling her in his lap and grabbing the thin blanket she’d brought in lieu of a towel, wrapping it around her shoulders. “And I love you too.”

“I'll never get tired of hearing that.” Bucky hums, hand on her hip, thumb lazily drawing circles on her skin. “Never thought I'd hear it from someone like you. Someone who meant it with every bone in their body.”

Nora lets her arms dangle loosely over his shoulders, cocooning them both in the blanket, a sleepy smile on her face. “Y'always get so poetic after giving a girl the best first experience of her life?”

“Only with you, sweetheart, only with... _first?_ ” He raises his head slightly as the words register, brows raised. Nora is unashamed as she meets his gaze.

“Ain't ever let a guy touch me like that before. Or anything else. Church says marriage, four older brothers say stay away...” She shrugs, a humming laugh he can feel where her chest touches his running through her body. “Wanted to wait ‘til I found someone I really loved. Someone I'd stick with... maybe for a very long time.”

She's a little shy saying it, laying her hopes for this relationship out so bare, but he just smiles, fingers dancing lightly over her back as he gives her a gentle kiss. “Well I sure ain't got nowhere to be for the rest of my life.”

* * *

The next day, as they’re making their way to the next SSR mission point, Steve falls in step with Bucky at the back of the group. Nora’s up the front, exercising her basic French with Dernier and Jones, and both she and Bucky have had dumb smiles on their faces all morning.

“Hey, buddy, I got a request for ya.” Steve’s looking _awfully_ innocent, and Bucky’s instantly alerted to the fact that his brother may be up to some mischief.

His gut-feeling is one hundred percent, completely, absolutely correct.

“Next time you wanna show Nora a good time, and seein' as y'can't put a sock on the door, mind going a bit further downwind? See, uh, now that my hearing’s better, I could—”

Nora’s stumbled, tripping over her own feet up the front, and Bucky can see the way the back of her neck has gone red as Dernier steadies her.

“Yep! _Thanks._ Got it, punk.”

“Also, maybe keep your shirt on tonight. Back looks like you went twenty rounds with a tiger.”

“… I don’t know why everyone thinks you’re such a boyscout, Rogers. You’re a horrible friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONSENT IS SUPER SEXY !!!
> 
> PrincessKara12 & Scarlettsoldier, thank u for ur milli comments i adored reading them on my breaks at work during what has been a fairly shitty month in that soul sucking anxiety triggering office
> 
> this chapter and the next two are prolly just romancy fillers and then PLOT. I got it all planned out. im excited. 
> 
> also i watched iw in HD man I am crying my babies look so good
> 
> edit: oh my ogdd i mixed up my own timeline ok there will be three or four filler chapters i'm workin' on it forgive me friends this is the fifth time ive had the flu this winter


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _No matter what they say_ , he'd said, hands cupping her face and lips moving against hers with each murmured word, _they're not gonna change the way I feel about you. You're my girl._
> 
> Finally, Delilah steps forward, almost sizing Nora up and _tsk_ ing with disapproval.
> 
> Put her in front of the Red Skull and five dozen soldiers, Nora won't bat an eye.
> 
> Put her in front of her boyfriend's mother, and she's trembling in her pretty little t-straps.

“Nor, you look beautiful, there's nothing to worry about.” Bucky takes her hand as she fidgets with the pearl on her necklace for what feels like the hundredth time, and he presses a reassuring kiss to her fingers.

“What if they don't like me?”

“That's impossible.” Steve dismisses, strolling along beside them, hands in his pockets. “There's no way they won't love you. They love everyone.”

“What if I'm the one person they don't love?” Nora's fingers tighten nervously around Bucky's, and she only releases them when he winces, instead straightening the floral tea dress she'd borrowed off Peggy before leaving London.

“Not likely.” Bucky grins, grabbing her hand again, fingers twining with hers. “They're gonna love you, Nora.”

Steve's already halfway up the stairs to the home Bucky had been brought up in, but Nora can't bring herself to start up the wooden steps. There's a flicker of movement in the window that makes butterflies rampage in her stomach, and seeing her face, Bucky sighs, taking both of Nora's hands in his, turning her to face him. “Nora, listen to me. Ma and the girls are gonna love you. They won't care what your story is, or that you're in the army with us. They're going to love you, because I love you.”

Nora takes a deep breath, tucks her hair back behind her ear, straightens her dress once more, before taking Bucky's hand again and starting up the stairs.

“Aunt Delilah, I'm home!” Steve's chosen that moment to fling open the door, announcing his presence with a mischievous grin. “Your favourite son is here. Oh, and Bucky too, I guess.”

“Steve!” The three girls that had been crowding the window fall over themselves to look inconspicuous, rushing to greet their second brother.

“One day, you're gonna realise that's not as funny as you think.” Bucky comments dryly, and there's another flurry of movement as he too is dragged into the fray by the three brunettes. Nora, standing by the door, tries to reconcile each one with the photo she’d been shown.

Rebecca, a whole three years younger than Bucky at 25, though already married and carrying a slight roundness to her middle, is easiest to spot. She laughs and pokes Steve's biceps, the humour on her face an exact copy of Bucky's when he's filled with so much joy it lights his whole body.

Daisy and LouLou are twins, twenty years of age, identical smirks of mischief on their faces, though Daisy had recently cut her hair to her shoulders, where LouLou had twisted hers into an elegant French twist.

The way all three girls drag Bucky and Steve into their embraces makes Nora long for her brothers, a lump growing in her throat that she swallows down as she touches the rosary she'd wrapped around her wrist.

“Excuse me, children of mine, where on earth are your manners? Why are you making such a ruckus in the doorway? And who's this stray?”

The new voice makes everyone's heads turn towards the door to the kitchen. Delilah Barnes, the matriarch of the family, stands with her hands on her aproned hips, glaring sternly at her children, though Nora sees the tears shining in her eyes at the sight of her sons, biological or not. Her words, however, turn all gazes to Nora, and Nora tries not to flinch under the bright Barnes eyes, tries not to look like a deer in the headlights.

Bucky extracts himself from his sisters, taking Nora's hand and smiling reassuringly at her. Steve's grinning at them, an arm around Daisy and LouLou each as they watch.

“Ma, Bec, Daisy, Lou, this is Sergeant Nora Joseph. She's on the squad with Steve and me. And... She's my girl.” Bucky's smiling down at her like she hung the moon, and it's involuntary, the way she smiles back. “She and Steve saved me, when I got captured.”

“It's wonderful to meet you all.” Nora manages to speak, quiet and polite, the way her brothers had taught her. _Be courteous, be kind, and always remember your manners._ “Bucky and Steve have told me so much about you all, I feel like I've known you my whole life.”

Rebecca and Daisy are hard to read, expressionless as they wait for their mother to approve or reject. LouLou and Steve offer encouraging smiles, and Bucky's hand tightens almost imperceptibly around hers.

_No matter what they say,_ he'd said, hands cupping her face and lips moving against hers with each murmured word, _they're not gonna change the way I feel about you. You're my girl._

Finally, Delilah steps forward, almost sizing Nora up and _tsk_ ing with disapproval.

Put her in front of the Red Skull and five dozen soldiers, Nora won't bat an eye.

Put her in front of her boyfriend's mother, and she's trembling in her pretty little t-straps.

“What _do_ they feed you in the army? Table scraps? C'mon, sweetheart, let's get some food into you.”

The tension in the room dissipates almost instantaneously, as Delilah smiles warmly and nods towards the kitchen. Nora's so relieved she could collapse, but she doesn't get time to, Bucky's sisters taking their mother's approval as an unspoken signal, crowding her and asking questions at the speed of light, her hand slipping out of Bucky's as they lead her to the kitchen.

* * *

 

“So, Nora, what's your family like?” Delilah asks, absently loading Bucky's already full plate with more food. Bucky and Steve tense at the question.

“Ma—”

“Aunt Lilah, maybe—”

“No, it's okay, guys.” Nora gives them both a heartfelt smile, touched by their attempts at redirecting the conversation to ease her heartache. “My parents died when I was very young. I had four older brothers, George, David, Michael and Matthew. We were put in my grandfather's care, but he was always busy, so my brothers raised me, until George and David earned enough for an apartment in the city and moved us out here. They all enlisted or were drafted. Unfortunately, none of them made it back.”

“So you have no other family?” Daisy asks, and there's a slight _thud_ from under the table that makes her jerk in her seat, glaring at LouLou.

“Well, not in the biological sense. I suppose I have Bucky, Steve, Peggy and Howard and the rest of the team.” Bucky takes her hand under the table, squeezing reassuringly.

“Howard?” LouLou asks, spearing a baked potato with her fork.

“Howard Stark. He's quite a good friend, almost like another brother.” Nora grins, nudging Bucky's shoulder with her own. “We wouldn't have been able to save your brother without him.”

“You know _Howard Stark?!”_ Daisy's mouth hangs open, half-chewed pumpkin visible until her mother raps the table admonishingly with her spoon.

“Spent Christmas at his place.” Bucky's got on a smug smirk only an older brother would pull, shoving a mouthful of mashed potato in his mouth. LouLou sticks out her tongue at him, and he responds in kind, though a stern glare from his mother has him behaving. Nora and Steve glance at each other and then away, suppressing grins.

“He’s actually a little punk, Lou, you wouldn’t be impressed. Not as smooth as they make him out to be.” Steve teases, nudging LouLou with his elbow.

“But have you seen his _smile_?” LouLou sighs dreamily, cupping her chin with hands and  resting her elbows on the table.

“Yeah, and the oodles of money don’t mean anythin’, right, Lou?” Daisy snorts as Delilah pushes LouLou’s elbows off the table, eyes rolling at the lack of etiquette her children are showing.

“He’s got more money than sense, sometimes.” Nora shrugs, pushing her peas around her plate. “Still, I suppose he's family." 

* * *

 

“You don’t have to help clean up, sweetheart, you can go sit with the others, I’ll bring some coffee out in a bit.” Delilah’s donned her apron once more, set about cleaning after dinner while the others retired to the backyard. Only Bucky remained (though Steve had tried, Bucky had given him a look that clearly meant he wanted to talk to his mother alone) to help with the cleanup, uncharacteristically quiet.

“It’s okay, Ma. I wanna help.” He takes the task of loading the leftovers into glass dishes. Delilah glances at her son, then out the window above the sink to where Nora sits with her daughters, Steve, and John, Rebecca’s husband, now finished his shift at the factory.

“She’s very pretty. And polite.” Delilah notes as she scrubs at a plate. “Good sense of family. I’m not too thrilled at her runnin’ around playing soldier, but she saved you, so I guess I can accept it. And she’s the only girl you’ve brought home since Nancy, when you were twenty.”

“So you like her, then?” Bucky covers the dishes, setting them on the counter and moving to wipe down the counter.

“I guess I do.”

“Maybe… as a daughter-in-law?” Bucky keeps his back turned, focused on wiping the crumbs off the table and replacing the lace table-cloth and candelabra. Delilah’s frozen momentarily at the sink, before switching off the water and drying her hands on her apron.

“A daughter-in-law, hm?” Delilah repeats, and Bucky doesn’t turn, fearful that, despite praising her, his mother won’t accept Nora as his wife.

“I love her, Ma. She means everythin' to me. I wanna finish this war, give her a home, a family. It ain't gonna replace the one she lost, but maybe it'll ease the pain.” Bucky's twisting the cleaning cloth in his hands, eyes on the table. “I love making her smile. I love making her laugh. I wanna do that, forever. And I wanna do it with your blessing, and Grandma's ring, but if not... I'm still gonna marry her.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then a small chuckle. Delilah takes the cloth from Bucky's hands, pulling him down for a tight hug.

“If you're happy, I'm happy.”

* * *

 

Bucky stays in the kitchen even after Delilah joins the others, hand clutched tight around the blue velvet box containing a simple gold band. He could imagine it, seeing Nora in white at the end of an aisle, Steve nudging him with an elbow as she walks towards them. Sliding his gran's band on her finger, the way she’d smile, she gets a little dimple in her cheek when she's really happy. His heart squeezes painfully – but it's not a bad thing.

A knock at the door startles him out of his daydream, and when he opens it and sees Edwin Jarvis, he knows nothing good will follow.

“Apologies for interrupting, Sergeant Barnes, but Mr Stark and the SSR request the presence of Captain Rogers, Sergeant Joseph, and yourself.”

Bucky nods, running a hand through his hair, smiling half-heartedly at Mr Jarvis. It's not his fault. Ain't about to shoot the messenger. Jarvis looks apologetic, at least.

“Yeah, just let me say bye to my ma, and we'll be out.”

“Of course, Sergeant.”

Bucky takes two steps towards the back door, before pausing. Looking at the box in his hand. And then he turns back to Mr Jarvis, mind made up.

“Any chance I could ask ya for a favour?” Bucky queries, and Jarvis raises an eyebrow and nods. “I need you to hold onto this for me. No-one can know about it – especially not Stark, if he decides to change it in anyway, I'll hang him by his toes. And if... if anything happens to me, give it to Nora.”

The blue box exchanges hands, and the array of emotions that crosses Mr Jarvis’ face is impressive: curiosity, exasperation, surprise, delight... poorly hidden pity and sadness.

“You have my word, Sergeant Barnes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm soooo sorry i took such a long break!! As i said on my other fic (an Avvar AU!Cullen/Trevelyan Dragon Age, if ur interested) I got promoted at work and my anxiety kicked in big time, so my muse got kind of lost on the way. hopefully there won't be another long break in between chapters!
> 
> thank you so much to all who commented in the meantime, I've loved reading them and knowing people are still enjoying the stories!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarvis sits and waits patiently at an unattended desk for Howard to finish his work, fountain pen in hand as he works over a notebook. Bucky nods to himself, strides across the floor towards the butler. As he nears, he absently notes the Butler is putting together a grocery list.
> 
> “Sergeant Barnes! Delighted to see the team back in one piece, sir.” And the man is genuine, too, there’s no faking the relief in his eyes. The Commandos were first and last line of defence. Nothing would get past them, and if it did, the war had another player with ungodly power and the world would fall.
> 
> “Yeah, so ‘m I, pal.” Bucky says, and the tone he uses has the Englishman looking at him more closely. It’s almost… nervous. “Listen, you know the thing I asked you to hold onto… any chance you got it on you?”

The mission they go on is simple enough. Recon, take down a small Hydra team before they can shuttle Allied Soldiers to their bases. What is most surprising, however, is that it’s not just Allied Soldiers they find in the cramped prison trucks.

They find Nazis there too.

Those they hand off to Allied command, as the SSR has predominate jurisdiction over Hydra.

It would appear that Hydra no longer follows the German Regime, intending to be a new player in the war to end all wars.

The thought sits uneasily with the Commandos, and particularly, with Bucky. As he watches Nora point aggressively over a map with Steve, Howard, Carter and Phillips in their London bunker, still covered in dirt and soot but full of energy and light, hair falling over her shoulder, he feels an uneasy sense of… _something._ An ominous kind that sits deep in his stomach. With that feeling comes something else, an impatient sort. Once his thoughts click into place, his mind made up, he tears his eyes from her, looking around the room for the one person who’ll have what he needs.

Jarvis sits and waits patiently at an unattended desk for Howard to finish his work, fountain pen in hand as he works over a notebook. Bucky nods to himself, strides across the floor towards the butler. As he nears, he absently notes the Butler is putting together a grocery list.

“Sergeant Barnes! Delighted to see the team back in one piece, sir.” And the man is genuine, too, there’s no faking the relief in his eyes. The Commandos were first and last line of defence. Nothing would get past them, and if it did, the war had another player with ungodly power and the world would fall.

“Yeah, so ‘m I, pal.” Bucky says, and the tone he uses has the Englishman looking at him more closely. It’s almost… _nervous._ “Listen, you know the thing I asked you to hold onto… any chance you got it on you?”

Mr Jarvis caps his pen and lays it in the centre of his notebook, then slips his hand into the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out the blue velvet box. “It has not left my person since.”

“Thanks, pal.” Bucky accepts the box, clutching it so tight his knuckles go white. “Wish me luck.”

This startles Mr Jarvis, and as the realisation of what Bucky’s about to do hits him, he splutters, “ _Wh-what?_ You intend to ask Sergeant Joseph _now?_ ”

“S’as good a time as any. You got another idea?”

“Over dinner, with _roses_ or… or by a lake, on a beach!” But as Bucky listens to each suggestion, watches Nora, he finds he doesn’t want her to go another second without this ring in her possession.

“It’s okay, Mr Jarvis, this’ll all work out.” Bucky pats the distraught butler on the shoulder, knowing he means well but unable to see anything but Nora. Later, he’ll recall the scene and note that Steve was by her side as Bucky spoke with Mr Jarvis, a little smile playing his lips – he’d heard the conversation with Jarvis, known what his brother was about to do, and it truly made him happy that Bucky’d found his happiness – he deserved it, more than anyone, after everything he’d been through. “Hey, Nora Rose Joseph!”

With Bucky’s loud call, the chatter in the bunker ceases, and all eyes turn to him as he strides across the floor, confident steps hiding his trembling nerves.

“Yeah, Bucky?” She raises an eyebrow, as if to say _what are you doing?_

He doesn’t know. Honestly, he’s just kind of winging it.

Steve steps aside as he approaches, a wide grin threatening to break loose as he gestures for Carter, Phillips and Stark to do the same.

“I love you. You know that, right?” Bucky feels kind of silly declaring it, and Nora’s brows tick up in surprise, shooting a weary glance at the other SSR agents that have gathered around to watch the spectacle.

“And I love you too, sweetheart, but what’s… going… _oh_.”

Without any sort of fanfare, he’s fallen to one knee before her, taken her gloved hand in his own. A deep breath to settle his nerves, and he speaks. “This War is taking everything. It almost took me. If it weren’t for you and Steve, I’d’a been dead in a ditch somewhere, thrown out after those bastards used everything up—”

Steve coughs, too deliberately to be anything but a subtle suggestion to get Bucky back on track as the tears well in Nora’s eyes.

“—Right. Uh. Anyway.” He clears his throat, squeezing Nora’s fingers in his own. “I love you with everything I have. And I won’t let this War take anymore time from us. I wanna be your husband, I wanna make you smile forever, I wanna wake up next to you every day, and when we win this war, I wanna give you a home, and a family. So… Marry me?”

It’s not the most eloquent proposal as he lets go of her hand to open the velvet box, his gran’s ring nestled in the cushion, but the way she smiles, that little dimple in her cheek as her tears overflow, and when she nods, his heart bursts with joy.

“James Buchanan Barnes, you crazy moron, I’ll marry you.”

“You will?” _Just double checking I’m not dreaming._ She laughs, drags him upright, and plants a kiss on his lips that sends lightning racing through his veins.

“I sure will.” She murmurs against his lips, and he laughs, kissing her again as cheers erupt around them. There’s a spurt of laughter as they hurriedly try to remove her vambrace from her hand so he can slide the ring on her finger, but once he does, he wraps his arms around her, kisses her again, spinning her around with an elated laugh.

The other SSR agents come in to offer their congratulations, and Steve hugs them both so tight Bucky can swear his bones creak.

‘I’m proud of you, Buck.” Steve says, and his grin widens, teasing. “I better be the Best Man.”

“Y’know, I was actually thinkin’ I’d put Phillips in— _ow, hey!_ ”

“Rogers, no beatin’ my fiancé.” Nora slides herself between them after Steve’s half-hearted mock-punch, and Steve laughs as Bucky wraps an arm around her waist.

“Y’sure you want him, Joseph? He’s a real idiot sometimes.” Steve raises a brow, and Nora just laughs, leaning up to kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“Yeah, but he’s got this real sweet way he talks to me that makes me wanna keep him forever.”

“Aw, see, Steve? I’m an idiot, but I’m a sweet one.”

“An idiot’s still an idiot, Buck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIT U WITH THE 1 2 UPLOAD ENJOY SOME SWEET FILLERS


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Crrrk. Crrrk-crrk. Crack. CRACK._
> 
>  
> 
> “OUT OF THE WAY!”

The wedding is pulled together in almost no time at all.

Howard arranges for Bucky’s ma and sisters to be in London, and all four women pull Nora into a tight embrace the minute they see her. It’s a warm hug, full of love and it’s what _family_ does, and Nora tears up. Bucky smiles as he watches on, pulls her to his side when they let go and plants a kiss on her head.

They’re so _goddamn happy._

They find a small church to marry in, one by the water. It was the most important thing, to Nora, to be married in a church before God and all His people. Her rosary wrapped tight around her wrist as she speaks with the Priest, as they choose a date, she can almost feel her family with her. Her mom and dad, all four brothers. She’d have loved them to be there.

She cries in Bucky’s arms that night. Painful, bottomless sobs that pull her breath in ragged gasps, that smear leftover mascara around her lids and on his sleep shirt as she buries her face in his chest, clutching tight to the navy glass beads that are the only thing she has left of them. He holds her tight and doesn’t let go until she falls asleep.

The dress she finds with Ana Jarvis and Peggy. Ana proves to be a delightful counterpart to Mr Jarvis, utterly different from him but every bit his match.

The dress has been worn before, but it doesn’t matter so much to Nora. She falls in love with it the minute she sees it. It’s simple and perfect. A sleeveless sweetheart with a tapered waist and a simple sheath for the skirt that spins out wonderfully when she twirls. With the white silk gloves Ana lends her (the _something borrowed_ ) and her new veil, Nora has never felt more beautiful.

At least, until the three ladies go shopping for the _night_ activities of the wedding. Giggling as they surreptitiously pass about the flask Peggy had snuck in with them into the Atelier where Nora is sized and has all types of lingerie, from silk to sheer chiffon thrown at her. They leave three hours later, cheeks pink with drink and Nora’s purse considerably lighter with her _something new._

* * *

 “Hey, Howard?”

“Yeah, kid?” The mechanic’s head is somewhere in the hood of his car, a surprisingly mundane task for the billionaire. Nora’s in the driver’s seat, spread out across the bench and looking up at the ceiling of the garage, the cover of the convertible folded back. She blows out a breath, pursing her lips in thought before speaking, rushing the words out before her courage leaves her.

“Will you walk me down the aisle?”

_Thunk!_

“ _Ow, Jesus!_ ” Howard emerges from under the hood, rubbing his head, though his grease-covered face is more shocked than pained as he walks around to lean over the car door, hovering over her. “Repeat that for me?”

“You heard me.” She mumbles, playing with the sunglasses she’d found in the glovebox (next to the champagne). She puts them on and smiles bright up at him, but he’s having none of it, pushing them down her nose until he can see her eyes. Nora huffs. “Fine. Howard Stark, would you kindly accompany me down the aisle as you are the closest to a brother I have in this world right now, considering there is no way my brothers would be able to attend.”

Howard blinks at her as she pushes the sunglasses back up her nose, averting her gaze. She’d been thinking about it for a while. Steve would be up there as Bucky’s best man, and as much as she loved the Commandos, she was closest with Howard. This eccentric genius who could spend time with anyone he wants but always there for her – her closest friend in this world.

“Are you sure?” Howard’s hesitation is surprising to her, and so she smiles up at him, reassuring and warm.

“If you can stay sober long enough to get me down the aisle, you’re up.”

“I – sure, kid. I’m there.” He pats her head affectionately, and later, Nora would tease him about the shine in his eyes as he orders her to get off her butt and try the engine again.

* * *

 “James, you gotta go.” Nora laughs into the kiss, neither making a move towards the door. They’re getting married in two weeks, and he’s been staying with Steve since. A slapdash attempt at modesty and social decency before the wedding (and at least, while his mother is around). “We promised we’d stay apart until the wedding, c’mon, you gotta leave.”

“What if I stayed here and we just went to the wedding together, hmm?” He’s wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, eyes sparkling with mischief as he pulls her closer, nuzzling into her neck. “You could show me what you bought for the… _after_.”

“ _Mister Barnes,_ I am a betrothed woman!” She giggles, pushing playfully at his chest as he lifts her in his arms, bringing his lips back to hers with a low chuckle that sends thrills down her spine.

“Lucky fella. We don’t need to let him know, it can be our little secret. Last fling before the ring, n’all.” He’s carrying her to the bed, and she _should really stop him – she really should but---_ “I don’t wanna leave you.”

She sighs happily as he places her amongst the pillows, a knee beside her hip as he leans over her, a lingering kiss sending electric sparks through her veins. “But you gotta… you _really_ gotta…”

Even as she says it, Nora winds her arms around his neck, pulling him further onto the bed, his warm body covering hers, and she feels safe. Loved.

“Says who?” He’s pulled away a little, smiling down at her – and God, that smile. It takes her breath away. So light and carefree. She remembers when she first saw him after Steve had pulled him out of the rubble. He’d looked like he’d never smile again, eyes dark and stormy, cheeks hollow, shadows that hung about like a dark cloud under his eyes.

So seeing his smile?

Nora’s heart soars, and her palm presses to his cheek, thumb stroking over the cut of his cheekbone. His eyes slide shut, a soft sigh as his lashes flutter, and he turns his face, pressing a kiss to her palm.

“Aw, Hell, James.”

In a move that _definitely_ wasn’t taught to her for this scenario, Nora wraps her leg around his waist, flips him onto his back so hard the springs of her bed creak. His breath leaves him in a _woosh_ and a quiet laugh as he looks up at her, palms running up her silk pajama-clad thighs to her waist.

“So does that mean I can stay, Miss Joseph?” The way his lips tick into a smirk and the subtle movement of his hips stoke the growing heat in the pit of her stomach into roaring flames, and she leans down to draw a deep, languid kiss from him---

_Thump, thump, thump!_

“Joseph, open up!” Dum-Dum’s voice cuts through the thick haze of desire and makes Nora jump, both she and Bucky shooting up so fast they bump heads. “I know Barnes is there – we got a mission. Get movin’!”

Bucky meets her gaze, and she finds her own emotions mirrored there. Apprehension, but mostly exasperation. His words spark movement, both immediately shooting off the bed and to the closet that holds their uniforms.

“We’ll meet you there in ten.” Bucky calls, passing Nora her uniform, the sound of Dum-Dum’s thumping steps fading amongst the rustle of clothes and the _zwip_ of shoelaces being pulled tight.

* * *

 It’s a simple enough operation. Hold off the Hydra goons and play the distraction while Gabe sneaks in to get the information. If all goes well, the building comes down, Hydra’s dealt with, and their information gotten with them none the wiser.

Playing it like a regular search and destroy op is easy enough for Nora. Bucky’s out in the field this time instead of in a nest above with his sniper. She enjoys having him at her back, in the thick of it with her. The look of awe he shoots her in the lulls after she’s thrown a man twice her size across the way to create a crater in the concrete column of the building makes her feel all warm inside.

“Wouldya stop making googoo eyes at each other and finish cleanin’ up?” Morita shouts, gun ringing out. Nora laughs, flinging her last knife as she moves forward into the fight, Bucky at her back. There are only a few left, and she’s got enough energy to go another fifty bouts.

They’re at the doorway to the building, and Gabe joins the ranks as though he’d been there the whole time, gun _rat-tat-tat-tat-ing_ throughout the field. He’s got a smug air about him, and a suspicious bulge in the side pocket of his pants. _Successful._

 _“Grenade!”_ Falsworth shouts, and Steve’s there, catching the grenade Falsworth had spotted with his shield, batting it up into the air. It explodes with a loud bang, taking a corner of the building with it in a spray of dust and rubble. With a final _boom_ of Dugan’s shotgun, the last Hydra falls.

In the ringing quiet of the aftermath, guns are safetyed and stowed, the Commandos checking on one another with slaps on backs and arms thrown over shoulders. Steve shoulders his shield, making his way over to where Bucky and Nora are standing. “You two are a force to be reckoned with.”

“Learned from the best, _Captain America._ ” Nora punches at his shoulder with a grin as she puts on the breathy voice of the USO girls, and he laughs, Bucky smirking at his pal and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Steve rolls his eyes, stepping away, but he pauses, frowning under the mask and turning back to Nora.

“You hear that?”

She concentrates on her hearing, listening for whatever it is Steve’s focused on. There’s the sounds of rubble crunching under the footsteps of her teammates, their quiet conversations. Beyond that, the slow return of twittering birds that had silenced and hidden in the gunfire. Beyond _that…_

_Crrrk. Crrrk-crrk. Crack. CRACK._

“OUT OF THE WAY!”

Bucky sprawls in the asphalt across the clearing as the building comes down in a great heap of rubble. His vision blurs and his ears ring, and it takes a few moments for his sight to balance and his strength to return enough, and he sits up on his elbows, disoriented as he looks around. As the dust clears, Steve’s standing a bare three feet away from the fallen building, shield up as the last bits of rubble bounce off. The rest of the Commandos scatter around, picking their way through the debris to figure out what had happened. Morita and Falsworth help Bucky to his feet, and as he stands, the shout echoes in his mind.

_Out of the way!_

It was… --

“ _—Nora!_ ” Steve’s already digging through the debris, chunks of concrete flying across the field like empty crates, and the Commandos are quick to follow suit. Bucky’s in there, digging most furiously, panic gripping his heart and holding it in a vice grip. She’d shouted to him, pushed him out of the way with all her strength, enough to send him clear across the field.

There’s a weak groan, and some of the rubble shifts to Morita’s left. Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat, and he moves around, sweeping away dirt and rocks until his palms bleed. By the time they dig out Nora’s top half, she’s awake enough to be helping. Her movements are weak, and pained whimpers accompany each movement. She’s covered in dust and dirt, cuts bleeding all about her face, a steady stream from her nose, burst vessels turning the white of her left eye red, the green of the hazel standing out and bright with pain. Her eyes find Bucky, and though she’s covered in wounds and blood and bruises, relief floods through him to see her alive.

“I c-can’t—I can’t—” She’s grappling at the concrete slab pinning her legs down, fingertips glancing off the edge. Bucky grabs her hands, presses her fingertips to his lips as Steve kneels beside her, searching for purchase on the slab as he orders Gabe to call Stark for immediate extraction.

“It’s okay, Nora, it’s gonna be okay.” Bucky murmurs to her, and a low whine leaves her throat as the slab shifts.

“I’ll lift, you pull her out, on the count of three.” Steve commands, finally finding a grip on the slab. Falsworth and Morita grip under her arms, ready to pull. Dernier and Dugan are putting together a makeshift stretcher, ready to carry her to the plane as Gabe activates the transponder. Bucky moves into place on Nora’s other side, ready to help lift.

Steve catches his eye, a reassuring glance, a nod.

 _“_ One. Two. _Three!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS TERRIBLE I NEED TO USE THE EDIT IN THE MORNING 
> 
> ALSO ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t let her rosary out of his sight the whole time, and he avoids sleep as long as he can.
> 
> Every time he closes his goddamn eyes, he sees Nora crushed under the building she’d saved him from.

“She’s not healing right.” Howard moves as he talks, cutting away pieces of her uniform to fully examine the extent of Nora’s injuries. She floats in and out, the pain too much to handle. Bucky stays next to her, holding her hand, white as a sheet as Howard, Jarvis and two doctors fly around them. “Her bones broke and healed too fast, in the wrong positions. We’re gonna have to rebreak them.”

Bucky springs into action, anger flooding through his veins as he pushes Howard away from Nora. He yelps in protest, back hitting the surgery wall and eyes wide with shock. “You so much as touch a _single hair on her head,_ Stark, and I swear to God –”

“Bucky, he’s just helping—” Steve’s got a firm grip on his arm, pulling him back, and Bucky shrugs it off, ready to keep going, but Howard strides back towards Nora, having pulled himself together, determination and a little anger written on his face. He cares about Nora too, Goddamnit. Don’t see him losing his cool.

In truth, Howard blames himself, in the slightest. Some he shifts on to the poor Doctor Erskine, but he’ll shoulder most of it himself. Where Steve’s wounds and bones heal perfect and clean, the prototype serum limping through her veins is nowhere near as adept. Seeing his best friend on the table, lumps forming under monstrous bruises where the bones are healing wrong, the guilt that wracks through him is enough to make him feel sick.

“You want her to be able to walk again? Huh? Want her to be able to walk down the aisle at the church without needin’ a wheelchair?” Howard asks, looking up at Bucky, almost snarling the words out. “Then get out of my way and out of the surgery. If you’re here, you’re helping. If you’re not, get out.”

Nora stirs on the table, a soft whimper of pain, and her eyes, the left still ringed in red, find Steve. She grabs his arm, surprisingly strong for her state, and pulls him close, lips moving but no sound coming out. Steve leans in, trying to hear what she’s saying, and with a look of determination, she tries again.

“Get… him… out. Don’t… see… this.”

Steve doesn’t need clarification as to the _him_ , and he nods, grabbing Bucky more firmly this time, using the unfair advantage of chemically-enhanced strength to get him out the door, despite the protest shouts from his best friend. He pulls Bucky down the hall, to the waiting area where the Commandos, still in their gear and covered in filth, sit in wobbly plastic chairs. They start to rise out of their seats, but Steve’s little headshake plants butts back on chairs soon enough.

“Listen to me, Bucky—Bucky, _listen!_ ”, Steve even gives him a little shake, getting Bucky to focus his rage-fuelled gaze. Underneath the stormy depths, there is worry, fear that strikes deep to the bone. “They’re trying to help her. She doesn’t want you to see her in pain, because it’s going to get messy in there. You need to stay out here and trust me. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“ _Rogers! Get back in here!”_ Howard yells, and when Steve is sure Bucky will stay put, he rushes back into the surgery, the doors swinging shut behind him.

Without Steve’s support, Bucky falls into an empty chair, barely hears it groan under his weight, nor the concern of his squad.

Instead, he leans forward, eyes closed, Nora’s rosary clutched in his fingers as he prays to a God he’d long forgotten as he listens to the unmistakeable cracking of bones and her screams, screams that’ll haunt him for years to come.

* * *

 For three days, Nora dozes in and out of slumber, but whether from pain or exhaustion, it’s hard to tell. Just as Steve does, she burns through painkillers too fast for them to have any effect. Bucky stays with her near constantly, and it’s only after some convincing from Steve and the threat of bringing his mother down that Bucky gets up to wash up and change each day. He doesn’t let her rosary out of his sight the whole time, and he avoids sleep as long as he can.

Every time he closes his goddamn eyes, he sees Nora crushed under the building she’d saved him from.

By the time he returns on the fourth day, she’s awake, eyes open and darting around frantically. Her left eye isn’t as bloodshot as before, the burst vessels healing over slowly, and the bruises she’d worn for the past three days have faded to the sickly yellow-brown that meant they’d be gone soon. Her legs are still heavily bandaged and splinted under the blankets, no-one wanting to risk any issues with the way they’re healing.

What had surprised them all most was the scars. The debris that had sliced her arms while they were trying to pull her out had remained imprinted on her skin, long after the cuts and bruises had faded. Howard had theorized that her body had thrown it’s healing capabilities into her legs, it had barely fused the wounds on her arms together before moving onto the next injury. Yet another shortfall of her serum compared to Steve’s. She looks up as Bucky enters the room, panicked.

“Bucky – my rosary –“

In two long strides, he’s across the small room, pressing the beads into her palm as he settles on the side of the bed, bringing her close and kissing her forehead. “It’s here, sweetheart, I was keepin’ it safe for you, I’m sorry.”

The strength saps out of her at that, and she leans forward, her forehead resting on his shoulder, hand in his, the beads trapped between their palms. “I thought I’d lost it.”

Bucky strokes her hair a moment, before standing to help settle her back amongst the cushions, and once she’s comfortable, he sits at her side, careful not to jostle her as he takes her hand in his again, bringing it to his lips. There’s something unreadable in his face, like he’s hiding from her, and Nora finds she doesn’t like it. Not one bit. She frees the hand in his, caressing the side of his face ever so gently and running her thumb gently along his cheekbone in an effort to comfort him. Bucky turns his face into her palm, pressing his lips to her palm. He doesn’t lift his eyes when she says his name, ever soft, _“James…_ ”, but he does speak.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

The words tug at her heart painfully, like they had watching her brothers fall, one by one. When Bucky looks up, eyes dark and haunted, they see right through to her soul and she feels the pain, not of the physical sense, but the emotional turmoil that whips around in him, reflected in the stormy blue of his eyes. “I never want to feel that again, Nor. I want to marry you. I want us to finish this war, I want us to sit on the beach in Havana for our honeymoon and spend our nights and mornings together, and I wanna come home and build a life, a family with you, because it won’t replace the one you lost but they’ll live on through us and our children, when this country, this world is safe. And we almost lost that because you decided to save me instead of yourself.”

Nora sits in a stunned silence for a moment, processing his words. He’d have wanted her to sit by and watch him die? “James, I have seen too many of my friends and family die for me to not save you. I want… I want all of that too. But I couldn’t – I could, and I _did_ survive the damage. You wouldn’t have. It’s non-negotiable, and we can’t take it back. I survived, we survived, and we’re gonna finish this war. We’re gonna go home and be safe and happy together for a very long time.”

He leans forward, forehead against hers, a hand sliding gently into her hair. The raw emotion in his eyes, so close, almost makes her want to look away, but she holds his gaze, brushing her thumb over his cheek soothingly.

“Promise me, Nora Rose. Promise me we’ll both get through this.”

So quiet and so ragged are his words, pleading and desperate, that the oath slips past her lips before she can stop, before she can rationalise and remind him that she can’t make a promise she has no control over. But as her lips brush over his, as he deepens the kiss with a ferocity that sends shockwaves through her that has nothing to do with the pain, she’s helpless but to respond, murmuring against his lips.

“I promise.”

* * *

 Steve finds them a few hours later, side by side on the bed, talking quietly, Nora’s head on Bucky’s shoulder, and he’s almost hesitant to interrupt. Nora sees him before he can back away, however, and her face lights up as she calls out to him.

“Steve! Why are you dancing in the doorway?” Nora pats the bed next to her – no expense spared on Stark’s behalf, no single hospital cot would do, Howard having brought in a cushy king to assist Nora’s healing wounds. Steve smiles softly, taking a seat on the other side of Nora, taking her free hand.

“Glad to see you’re getting better, Nora, had us all worried.” She squeezes his hand, a teasing grin on her face.

“Please, we all know I’m not going anywhere yet.” She punches his shoulder lightly with their joined hands, but her smile fades as she notices what he’s wearing.

The Captain America suit, shield on his back.

Bucky follows her gaze, and that soft little grin he’d worn drops. Steve gives a sad, apologetic little smile. “Sorry. I just dropped by to get Buck. Our intel provided an opportunity we can’t miss.”

He doesn’t say more, and both Nora and Bucky know why. The phrase that had been drummed into all of them fires through rapidly. _Loose lips sink ships._

“It’s okay, you guys go save the world.” Nora leans over, presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek, and then one to Bucky’s lips that lingers a little longer than appropriate, and Steve clears his throat, grinning as they pull apart. “Bring him back in one piece, Rogers. S’an order.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Steve stands, a cheeky little salute before he heads for the door.

“You rest up. I need you fightin’ fit for next week. I think we have something important on.” Bucky hums, stealing another kiss, reluctant to leave her.

“Do we? I hadn’t realised.” She grins against his lips, returning the kiss with one of her own.

“I think you’re meeting me at the end of an aisle, dress code is a white dress, think you can manage that?” He asks, one final kiss as he stands reluctantly, walking backwards out the door as he waits for her answer. Nora practically beams, shooing him out the door with bandaged fingers.

“I’ll meet you there, now go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see ? I can be nice!


	25. Chapter 25

** STRATEGIC SCIENTIFIC RESERVE – CONFIDENTIAL **

**Any unauthorized use or reproduction of this document is strictly prohibited and offenders will be prosecuted. Not for separate retrieval, with recording only.**

**RECORD – COMMUNICATIONS 1 FEBRUARY 1945**

**PARTIES: GREYHOUNDS TO GROUND**

**MISSION: CAPTURE THE FLAG & RETURN TO GROUND **

**STATUS: SUCCESSFUL**

**CASUALTIES: 1**

**COMMUNICATIONS START -  02011945:1430**

**RV:** Greyhounds to Ground – Rover here, are you receiving?

**GROUND:** Loud and clear, Rover, what’s your status?

**RV:** Heading to delivery zone, ETA three-dash-zero minutes. Flag secured.

**GROUND:  ** Copy, Rover, glad to hear it. Any speedbumps in securing the flag?

**RV:** We… Is Bluebird there?

**GROUND:**             Bluebird is present, Rover. I repeat, any speedbumps in securing the flag?

**RV:** We…

**RV:** Request Bluebird on the line, Ground.

**GROUND:**             Request granted, Rover, please hold the line.

**BB:** Bluebird to Rover, do you read me.

**RV:** Loud and clear, Bluebird.

**RV:** I’m sorry, Blue. We couldn’t… I’m sorry.

**BB:** Sorry for—

**BB:** Rover, answer. Any speedbumps in securing the flag?

**BE:** Bluebird, this is Blue Eagle. We had… one. I’m sorry.

**BB:** Elaborate, Blue Eagle. Do we need to have a room ready?

**BE:** One… One casualty, Bluebird. Grey… Grey Wolf, MIA, presumed KIA.

**BE:** No recovery possible.

**BB:** R-Repeat, Blue Eagle.

**BE:** Bluebird, I’m sorry—

**BB:** Repeat your last, Blue Eagle. Now.

**BE:** Grey Wolf is MIA, presumed KIA.

**BE:** Bluebird?

**BE:** Bluebird, do you read me?

**GROUND:** Receiving you loud and clear, Blue Eagle. Bluebird… Bluebird has flown.

                           Please proceed to delivery zone, Tincan is waiting for collection.

**BE:** Copy, Ground. Over and out.

 

**COMMUNICATIONS END – 02.01.1945 14:37**

**ARNIM ZOLA “FLAG” SECURED AND SUCCESSFULLY DELIVERED**

**JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES “GREY WOLF” MISSING IN ACTION, PRESUMED KILLED IN ACTION, NO RECOVERY POSSIBLE**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied I can't be nice I'm sorry
> 
> Bluebird: Nora Joseph  
> Blue Eagle: Steve Rogers  
> Rover: Gabe Jones  
> Grey Wolf: James Barnes


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’d meant to be wearing a veil in this church, on this day, though it was to be a white one. Simple tulle, that Bucky would lift from her face, smiling warm and alive.
> 
> Instead, it is a black dress, with a dark veil of lace covering her hair and face, and Bucky is nowhere to be found, save for his picture.

Steve hadn’t expected anyone would find him, not with London darkened, not sitting in a bombed pub, five empty bottles on the floor, a half-full one on the table, and the only glass without cracks he could find filled to the rim.

His eyes are red and wet, the tears an intermittent stream down his wind-pinched cheeks. He’d walked off the minute Howard had landed, away from Zola’s smug little face, from the concern of his squad, into the woods by the SSR’s improvised airfield. They’d let him go, of course, he’d come back.

But he’d found a little clearing, a creek running through the grass and the rocks, and he’d dropped his shield and his helmet, stripping off his gloves to wash away some of the grime from his face.

The minute he’d dropped to his knees, anguished, painful cries had been torn from him. Deep, wracking sobs that shook his whole body as he buried his face in his hands, fingertips grasping hair hard enough to hurt, and the woods went silent around him in mourning.

His brother had fallen, and he couldn’t stop it. For all the talk about Steve being a hero, he couldn’t save the one person he needed most in the world.

He’d promised Nora, promised Aunt Lilah, Becca, Daisy, Loulou. He failed them all.

And now he sat in the broken pub he’d once played matchmaker in, teasing Bucky and calling Nora over, and the tears start and stop as he uselessly tries his hardest to get drunk.

* * *

 It had taken her a while to find him, face pinched red in the cold as tears turn to frost on her cheeks, fingers almost numb, despite the wool of her gloves. But Nora had persisted, and Steve had been found in the first place she should have looked. He looks defeated, miserable, but she feels empty and hopeless and _lost_ and it all fuels into anger that rattles her to her core.

“You lied to me. I told you to bring him back, and you said you would.”

Later, she’d be surprised at the harsh, venomous cut of her voice, but he doesn’t look up from his glass, swiping at his eyes.

“Why did you – I needed to be there. If I was there, he wouldn’t have fallen. I wouldn’t have lost him.”

The glass smacks harshly against the wood of the table, and Steve grabs for the bottle, refilling it with liquor that glows a dull honey in the moonlight that has the audacity to shine on the darkest day of the world.

 “What are you saying?” His voice breaks, and he swipes a hand at his eyes. “That I let him fall on purpose? I’d—I’d die for him. I should have. He sh-… He shouldn’t have died for me.”

At once, hearing those words, the anger leaves her blood and despair reigns. The tears that had slowed begin anew, and the sob pulls forth from her chest without warning.

“Steve – I – I’m s—”

The fight saps out of him too, and he stands, wrapping her in a tight hug, hushing her gently, though it shakes. She can feel his body tremble, hear his lungs hitch with each breath.

“Don’t. I’m s…” He stops on the words, trying to gather himself. He doesn’t want to fall apart, not with her around. He may have lost his brother, but she lost her love. “I’m sorry. I promised you and I failed.”

Nora tries to pull herself together, tries to stem her tears before pulling her face from his chest. “You- You know wha-what he’d say, right?”

A weary chuckle, albeit a sad one, draws from his chest. “Tell us to stop cryin’ over him.”

She laughs, too, but her heart aches and it chokes on a cry. “What are we going to do?”

He’s quiet. He doesn’t know how to respond, just pulls her in close again, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

When Peggy finds him later, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. Hydra would pay for each life taken, ten times over.

He’d make sure of it.

* * *

 The memorial is quiet, small. The Commandos attend, and a few of the SSR. Howard, Mr and Mrs Jarvis and Peggy sit in the second pew with Colonel Phillips.

Nora sits in the front pew, in the church they were to be married in, worrying the glass beads of her rosary in her fingertips. She sits next to Delilah and Bucky’s sisters and brother-in-law, and Steve sits to her left. Dressed in all black with a lace veil over her face, she stares blankly ahead as the Priest drones on. She’d meant to be wearing a veil in this church, on this day, though it was to be a white one. Simple tulle, that Bucky would lift from her face, smiling warm and alive.

Instead, it is a black dress, with a dark veil of lace covering her hair and face, and Bucky is nowhere to be found, save for his picture. Her gaze finds it, where it’s propped on stand with a folded flag under it.

It’s a still from one of the promotional reels they’d taken. Steve and Bucky had been talking, laughing about something. His laugh, bright and joyous, as he looks down in laughter. While Nora is grateful they’d chosen this over a solemn war portrait, she wishes she could have seen his eyes one last time. The beautiful, blue eyes that had stared into her soul when they’d finally met in person, when they’d rescued him from a fate worse than death.

The tears well and overflow again, and as Nora’s body shakes with the effort of keeping silent, Delilah wraps her arm around her, a hand to the side of her head, gently pulling her close. Nora rests her head on Delilah’s shoulder, and Delilah rests her head on top of Nora’s. Together, they both cry quietly, for the lost son and love. Steve takes Nora’s hand, squeezes gently and stares silently ahead, tears streaming down his cheeks.

With no body to bury, all they give to Nora is the photograph and the flag. Her knuckles go white as she holds the frame, a shaking fingertip tracing Bucky’s jawline.

Wordlessly, she offers both items to Delilah, and when she takes them from her, Nora leaves, the veil hiding the tears that never seem to cease.

* * *

 She returns to the apartment, but the moment she steps through the door, she’s hyperaware of every reminder of him. Nora slides off her veil, peels off her gloves, and when she opens her closet to put them away, she finds his spare combat uniform, his dress uniform - the shirts and trousers he kept there for their rare days between missions.

He hadn’t returned while she was in hospital, and so everything remains as it was when they’d left in a hurry that day. Bucky’s clothes lay haphazardly on the end of her bed, next to the silk pyjamas she’d worn. The mugs they’d half-finished remain stone-cold on the bedside table, and her hands shake as she takes them to the kitchen sink.

Nora leans against the counter as she unbuckles the strap of her heels, putting them away on the rack by the door. Bucky’s shiny dress shoes still remain, the ones he’d meant to take with him that night, ready for the wedding.

The reminders of him are _fucking everywhere._

In the bathroom, as she washes her puffy face and searches for a hair-tie, she opens the mirror-cabinet, and next her perfume and cosmetics sits his shaving kit, his cologne and aftershave.

_“What, you just gonna watch me?” He laughs, lathering the lower half of his face and his neck with cream, grinning at Nora in the reflection of the mirror._

_“I’m bored.” She shrugs, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder, fingertips trailing across his skin – hiding a smirk in his shoulder when his abdomen twitches under her soft touch and he meets her gaze with a heated look in the mirror._

_“Okay, trouble, you need to sit down before I completely destroy my face.” Bucky turns, placing a hand on her shoulder and nudging her to sit on the edge of the tub as he picks up his razor. With sure strokes, he clears away the foam and stubble beneath, the military precision and efficiency almost an art._

_He himself is a work of art – his sleep trousers hang low on his hips, and the only other thing on him is the towel thrown over his shoulder. The scars and fading bruises catch in the light, but she only loves him all the more for them. He’s filled out a lot since she’d first met him – starved and weakened in captivity, now all lean muscle that would make the Hellenic pantheon weep._

_“Can I help?” He’d thrown her a side glance when she’d asked. He was almost done, but shrugs anyway, taking a seat on the edge of the tub and handing her the razor as she stands. Hands on her hips, he guides her until she’s standing with her legs on either side of his thighs, looking up at her._

_“Go gentle, with the grain. Use your free hand to keep the skin stretched out.” Bucky keeps his hands on her hips as she follows his instructions, watching her with an intensity that makes her feel warm all over. Instead of meeting his gaze, she focuses on the clean strokes of the blade, biting her lip in concentration as his thumb strokes over her hip, the heat of his hands felt so easily through the negligee she wore over her nightgown. He remains still as she finishes her task, placing the razor on the edge of the sink and wiping his face over with the towel. As she passes the towel over his cheek, she leans down to press a kiss to the clean skin revealed, warm against her lips._

_Teasingly, she follows the path of the towel, barely glancing over his lips, even when he chases them, instead kissing over the line of his jaw and down his neck._

_“Best shave I’ve ever gotten.” He pretends that his voice doesn’t shake with barely-held restraint, hands tightening ever so on her hips, before sliding slow down to her thighs._

_“I might have to help you with this more often.” She murmurs against his collarbone, teeth nipping ever so softly at the skin._

_The sharp sting of it prompts Bucky into action, and he stands, using his grip on her thighs to carry her as she laughs, bringing their lips together._

_“You’re gonna kill me, woman.” He knows her apartment well enough now, barely having to look to find his way to the bed._

_“And what a way to go.” She teases, laughing as she feels the soft mattress under her, arms around his neck as she pulls him down._

A sharp _CRACK_ draws Nora out of the memory, and she looks down as her broken hairbrush falls into the sink with a loud clatter.

Before the memories can overtake again, she slams the cabinet shut, letting out a distressed cry when the mirror cracks and a bottle shatters inside. In moments, the whole bathroom is overtaken with the smell of Bucky’s cologne. _Old Spice._ That damn _Old Spice_ that Howard had smelled on her after their first date.

On weak legs, she leaves the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the doorknob crushes and comes off in her hands.

_All this fucking strength, and what did it do to save him? What did it do?_

In a fit of rage, she launches it across the apartment with a shout, the shattering of the glass pane of the crockery cabinet, of the ceramic inside, not nearly enough to break her out of it.

_All of the shit she’s gone through, everyone’s she’s lost, hasn’t God taken enough from her?_

The silk printed screen at the foot of her bed goes next, the one she’d put a hole in after their first date, shatters and rips against the counter in a spray of splinters and silk.

_“Hold it in place, just a little longer.” Laughing, quickly threading the needle and stitching the patch of floral printed cotton over the hole. It would’ve been easy enough to mend the rips, but Bucky’d liked this piece of material when they’d gone to the store to find matching thread. He holds the screen still, watching her with complete adoration in his smile as her hands move, quick and sure._

_He’d liked the idea of her waking up, looking at it and thinking of him._

The frames hanging on the wall, too, fly across the room. Steve’s engagement gifts, drawn candids of Nora and Bucky, sitting side by side in the back of the plane, laughing together as he tucks her hair behind her ear. One drawn from memory, of Bucky at Nora’s back, gun at the ready as a knife flies from her hand. A black-and-white photograph of all three of them, and the Howling Commandos, meant to be sent to the newspapers but none of them had remained serious enough for it to be posted out. One of the three of them, Nora in the middle, an arm around Steve and Bucky each.

Each crash gets quieter and quieter, unheard over the sound of her own racing blood and her heaving gasps.

Nora’s hand flies to her chest, shaking heavily, fingertips glancing off the pearl he’d given her on their first Christmas. The chain clinks against the engagement ring she still wears, in place of the wedding ring she’d never receive.

The strength she can’t control now, and as her fingers tighten around the chain, she feels more than hears the snap as the links break, and the loud, wailing sobs break free as she falls to her knees.

Her body shakes as she kneels in the middle of the destroyed room, her forehead almost against the ground as she mourns. The pain she feels in her soul echoes in her voice, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel anything again.

* * *

 Peggy and Howard worry, when they come past later to check on her, and she doesn’t answer the door.

Howard will always thank a God he never talks to that he’d brought the spare key. His heart stops at the sight of the debris and disaster, Nora curled in the eye of the storm, her back against the wall next to her overturned desk. She clutches to her chest the broken necklace, and a carved wooden box.

Peggy picks her way through the mess carefully, wraps her arms around Nora. Howard’s heart shatters further when she doesn’t respond to the touch, face devoid of expression and eyes empty, tears drying on her cheeks.

“Come on, my love, up you get.” Peggy helps her up, not saying a word when Nora clutches the box tighter. She’s barefoot, her stockings torn and laddered, and her left sleeve is torn halfway up. Howard wraps an arm around her waist as they near, meeting Peggy’s eyes over Nora’s head. The concern and grief he feels is mirrored, and he pulls Nora closer, kissing the top of her head.

Peggy sits in the front next to Mr Jarvis, when they reach the car, and Howard slides into the back with Nora, keeping her close. A sister to him, seeing her in such pain breaks his heart into a million pieces, even moreso when, with shaking hands, she opens the box and places the necklace amongst a twine-wrapped bundle of letters.

_“Hey, James, this package was at the front desk for you.” Nora gestures to the brown-paper wrapped box on the counter as he comes out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips as he runs another through his hair. His eyes light up with delight, and he hangs the towel around his neck, treading across the room towards the kitchenette._

_He pauses to kiss her cheek – always does, revelling in her warm smile as she continues on with dinner, and opens the package with all the fervour of a child on Christmas day._

**_You two are cheesier than a dairy farm._ **

**_Your loving sister,_ **

**_Rebecca Barnes-Daly_ **

_The one-line letter from Becca makes him laugh, and when Nora reads the letter over his shoulder, her brows crease in confusion._

_“What does she mean?”_

_Reaching further into the box, Bucky pulls out the stack of envelopes, tied together with twine. Each envelope was sliced open neatly at its top, and Nora recognizes her own handwriting on the front of the first envelope. “She means your letters.”_

_Nora puts down her knife, wiping her hands on her apron before taking the stack from him, a finger running reverently over the letters. “You asked for them back?”_

_“Of course I did.” He takes one of her hands in his, twining their fingers together. His smile becomes uncharacteristically shy, as his thumb runs over the ring that sits on her third finger. “I thought… I thought maybe we could put our letters together. Keep ‘em somewhere safe. And maybe one day, we’ll… maybe one day we can show ‘em to our kids, an’ grandkids, if we’re lucky enough.”_

_Her breath catches – she’d thought about children with him, of course. A little boy with his eyes and her nose, a little girl with her curls and his mischievous smile. Maybe more than the two – having a big family like she’d grown up with had always been important to her – but hearing him talk about it makes her heart swell._

_There’s a little box on her desk, and she holds his hand, leading him across the apartment to it before letting go, handing him the letters while she opens the box. Inside lie his letters, wrapped and bound with a silk ribbon of blue, on top of the velvet case that had held the necklace that she wears. Without any further prompting, he places her letters ontop of his, and closes the box._

_“I like that idea.” Standing on her toes, she presses a kiss to his lips, smiling. “Now go get dressed, before you make me forget the promise I made.”_

_“Yes, Ma’am.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw Endgame last night.
> 
> [softly, but with feeling] _fuuuu-_ **and I cannot stress this enough** _-uuuuuuuuuck_
> 
> No spoilers in the comments I'll end yall be nice to those who haven't seen it yet
> 
> But anyway it plus the [following](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EH3eYCpvw50) [songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_9WeZhp-KQ)/ [soundtracks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_gtFtH3sW-M) [fuelled](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Ja3nxXGqn4) this im sry (Dragon Age Tavern songs get me sobbin honestly)


End file.
